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COUNT TOLSTOI’S WORKS. 

ANNA KABfeNINA 

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CHILDHOOD, BOYHOOD, YOUTH 
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IVAN ILYITCH . ) 

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MY RELIGION . > ... 


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THE LONG EXILE .... 

THE INVADERS . . . ) 

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Tolstoi Booklets. 

WHERE LOVE IS 


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THE TWO PILGRIMS . . . . 

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WHAT MEN LIVE BY . . . 


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THOMAS Y. CROWELL 

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COUNT TOLSTOI’S 

GOSPEL STORIES 


TRANSLATED FROM THE RUSSIAN 


BY 

NATHAN HASKELL DOLE 
) 





» « 



NEW YORK 

THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO. 


46 East Fourteenth Street 





Copyright, 18‘.K), by 
Thomas Y, Crowell & Co. 



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C. J. PETERS & SON, 

Typographers and Electrotypers, 

145 High Street, Boston. 


INTRODUCTORY NOTE. 


Nowhere has Count Tolstoi’s genius as a writer 
been more wonderfully displayed than in his tracts 
for the people. Written in an artless style, they are 
vivid, dramatic, touching. Their very simplicity adds 
to their charm. 

Several of these short stories published separately 
in the form of booklets have had a wide circulation, 
and attracted much attention. 

The present little volume is made up of all the 
various stories which have been included in several 
volumes of Count Tolstoi’s collected works. It is 
hoped that in this form they will meet with a re- 
newed popularity, and still more widely disseminate 
the great truths which they so beautifully illustrate. 

N. H. D. 


Boston, Feb. 26, 1890. 


t 




CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

If You Neglect the Fike, You don’t Put it Out . 1 

Wheke Love is, tiieke God is also 22 

A Candle 39 

The Two Pilgrims 52 

TEXTS FOR WOOD-CUTS : — 

The Devil’s Persistent, but God is Resistant 88 

Little Girls Wiser than Old Men 91 

Two Brothers and Gold 94 

Ilyas 97 

The Three Mendicants 104 

POPULAR LEGENDS:— 

How THE Little Devil earned a Crust of Bread 114 

The Repentant Sinner 118 

A Seed as Big as a Hen’s Egg 121 

Does a Man need Much Land ? 125 

The Godson 146 

The Long Exile 176 

What Men Live by 195 






IF YOU NEGLECT THE FIRE, YOU 
DON’T PUT IT OUT. 


“Then came Peter to him, and said, Lord, how oft shall my brother sin 
against me, and I forgive him? till seven times? 

Jesus saith unto him, I say not unto thee. Until seven times: but. Until 
seventy times seven. 

Therefore is the kingdom of heaven likened unto a certain king, which 
would take account of his servants. 

And when he had begun to reckon, one was brought unto him, which 
owed him ten thousand talents. 

But forasmuch as he had not to pay, his lord commanded him to be sold, 
and his wife, and children, and all that he had, and payment to be made. 

The servant therefore fell down, and worshipped him, saying. Lord, have 
patience with me, and I will pay thee all. 

Then the lord of that servant was moved with compassion, and loosed 
him, and forgave him the debt. 

But the same servant went out, and found one of his fellowservants, 
which owed him an hundred pence : and he laid hands on him, and took him 
by the throat, saying. Pay me that thou owest. 

And his fellowservant fell down at his feet, and besought him, saying, 
Have patience with me, and I will pay thee all. 

And he would not: but went and cast him into prison, till he should pay 
the debt. 

So when his fellowservants saw what was done, they were very sorry, 
and came and told unto their lord all that was done. 

Then his lord, after that he had called him, said unto him, O thou wicked 
servant, I forgave thee all that debt, because thou desiredst me : 

Shouldest not thou also have had compassion on thy fellowservant even 
as I had pity on thee? 

And his lord was wroth, and delivered him to the tormentors, till he 
should pay all that was due unto him. 

So likewise shall my heavenly Father do also unto you, if ye from your 
hearts forgive not every one his brother their trespasses.’* — Matt, xviii. 
21 - 35 . 

Ivan Shcherbakof, a peasant, lived in the country. 
He lived well. He had perfect health, he was the best 
workman in the village, and he had three sons grown 


1 


2 


IF YOU NEGLECT THE FIRE, 


up : one was married, one was engaged, and the third 
was a lad who w^as just beginning to tend the horses and 
plough. His old wife, Ivanova, was a clever haha, and 
a good housekeeper ; and the daughter-in-law was 
peaceful and industrious. All that Ivan had to do 
was to live with his family. The only idle mouth in 
his household was his infirm old father. (For six 
years he had been lying on the oven, suffering from 
asthma.) Ivan had plenty of eveiy thing: he had 
three horses and a colt, a cow with a calf, and fifteen 
sheep. The babas not only mended their husbands’ 
clothes, but made them, and also worked in the field : 
the muzhiks worked like true peasants. The old grain 
held out till the new came. They paid their taxes, and 
supplied all their necessities, with their oat-crop. All 
Ivdn had to do was to live with his children. 

But in the next dvor lived Ivdn’s neighbor, Gavrilo, 
a cripple, the son of Gordyei Ivdnof. And a quarrel 
arose between them. 

As long as the old Gord3^di’ was alive, and Ivdn’s 
father was manager, the muzhiks lived like exemplary 
neighbors. If the babas needed a sifter or a tub, or 
the muzhiks needed a corn-cloth or a new wheel, they 
would send from one yard to the other, and, like good 
neighbors, accommodate each other. If a calf broke 
into the threshing-floor, they would drive it out, and 
only say, “ Look out, don’t let him come in again : we 
have not moved the corn yet.” But as for hiding or 
locking things up, either the threshing-floor or the shed, 
or quarrelling, such things never happened. 

Thus they got along while the old folks were alive. 
But when the next generation took the reins, a new 
state of things came about. 

The whole trouble arose from a trifle. 


YOU DON'T PUT IT OUT. 


3 


A little hen belonging to Ivdn’s daughter-in-law took 
to laying early in the season. The young wife began 
to collect the eggs for Easter. Every day she went 
after the eggs to the wagon-box that stood in the shed. 
But the children, it seems, scared the hen, which flew 
over the fence into the neighbor’s yard, and there began 
to lay. The young woman heard the little hen cack- 
ling : she thinks, “I haven’t time now: 1 must clean 
up the izbd ^ against the holidays. I’ll go and get it 
by and by. In the evening she went to the shed, to 
the wagon-box : not a sign of an egg. The molodaika 
began to ask her mother-in-law and her brother-in-law 
if they had taken any out. “ No,” say they, “we 
haven’t.” But Taraska, the smallest brother-in-law, 
says, — 

“ Your bantam has l)een laying over in the next yard. 
She was cackling over there, and she came flying back 
from there,” 

And the molodaika looked at her bantam : she was 
Bitting next the cockerel on the roost ; her eyes were 
already shut ; she was just going to sleep. And she 
would have asked her where she had been laying, if the 
hen could only have answered. And the moloddika 
went over to her neighbors. The old woman came to 
the door. 

“ What do you want, molodka?” 

“Well,” says she, “baushka,^ my little bantam flew 
over into your yard to day. I wonder if she didn’t lay 
an egg ? ’ ’ 

“ We haven’t seen it at all. Our own hens, thank 
God, have been laying this long time. We gathered 
up our own, but we don’t need other folks’s. We, my 


1 Peasant’s eottajre. 

s Bausbka, fur babushka, old woman or grandmother. 


4 


IF YOU NEGLECT THE FIRE, 


little girl, never go into strangers’ yards to collect 
eggs.” 

This was an insult to the molodaika ; she said 
things that slie ought not : the neighbor replied in the 
same way, and tlie babas began to berate each other. 
Ivanof’s wife came out after water, and she also put 
in her word. Gavrilo’s wife rushed out of the room, 
began to blame her neighbor ; she recalled things that 
had happened, and added things that had never hap- 
pened. A regular thunder-storm ensued. 

All screamed at once, and tried to say two words at a 
time. Yes, and the words were all bad : “You are such 
and such,” “3’ou are a thief,” “you are a trollop,” 
^ ‘ you starve your old father-in-law, ’ ’ ‘ ‘ you are a beast. ’ ’ 

“And you mean little beggar that you are, you made 
a hole in my sieve ! ” — “ Andf^'ou’ve got our bucket- 
3^oke.^ I want it back again.” They caught hold of 
the bucket-yoke, spilt the water, tore off each other’s 
shawls, and began to fight. 

Just here Gavrilo came in from the field, and took 
his baba’s part. Ivdn and his son rushed over, and 
they all fell in a heap. Ivdn was a strong muzhik, 
and threw them all in different directions. He tore out 
a handful of Gavrilo’s whiskers. A crowd collected, 
and it was hard to separate them. 

This was the beginning of it. 

Gavrilo wrapped up his bunch of whiskers in a piece 
of writing-paper, and brought suit in the district court. 

“ I did not grow it,” says he, “ for the sake of let- 
ting that pigheaded Vfinka pull it out.” 

And his wife kept telling her neighbors that now they 
would get Ivan into a scrape, send him to Siberia ; and 
so the quarrel went on. 


* Koromuisslo, the yoke which is used for carrying water. 


YOU DON'T PUT IT OUT. 


5 


From the very first day the old man, as he lay on the 
oven, tried to pacify them ; but the young people would 
not listen to him. He said to them, — 

“ Children, you are acting foolishly ; and it was from 
a piece of foolishness that the whole thing started. 
Just think, the whole trouble is about an egg! Sup- 
pose the children did pick up the little egg. Why, let 
them have it.^ One egg isn’t worth much. God has 
plenty for all. AYell, suppose she did say a bad word ; 
}'ou ought to have corrected it ; you ought to have 
taught her to say better things. Well, you’ve had 
3'our fight — we are all sinners I Such things happen. 
Now go and make it up, and all will be forgotten ! 
But, if you act out of spite, things will go from bad 
to worse for you.” 

The 3’ouuger ones dicj not listen : the3^ thought the 
old man was talking nonsense, and was only grumbling, 
as old men are apt to do. 

Ivan did not give in to his neighbor. 

“ I did not pull his whiskers,” says he, “ he pulled 
them himself ; but his son tore out all my e3"e-hooks, 
and tore the shirt off m3' back. Just look at it ! ” 

And Ivan also went to court. The case was tried 
before the magistrate and at the district court. Vriiile 
they were at law, a bolt was missing from Gavrilo’s 
tclyega. Gavrilo’s babas accused IvAn’s son of steal- 
ing it. 

“We ourselves saw him go by the window,” they 
said, “on his way to the telyega ; and the godmother 
said that he stopped at the tavern, and tried to sell the 
bolt to the tavern-keeper.” 

Another suit was begun ; and at home every day, there 
was a new quarrel, a new fight. The little children, 

1 Literally, “ Nu! God be with them ! '* 


6 


IF YOU NEGLECT THE FIRE, 


imitating their elders, quarrelled ; and the babas, when 
they met at the river, did not pound so much with their 
paddles as they clacked with their tongues, and all to 
no good. 

At first the muzhiks only accused each other, but in 
course of time they actually began to steal whatever 
happened to be l^dng round. And the women and 
children also learned to do the same. Their lives grew 
constantl}" worse and worse. 

Ivan Shcherbakof and Gavrilo the cripple had their 
cases tried before the commune, and in the district 
court, and before the justice of the peace, until all the 
judges were weary of it : either Gavrilo had Ivan fined 
and put into jail, or Ivdn would do the same to Gavrilo. 
And the more harm they did to each other, the angrier 
they became. Tv' hen dogs get to fighting, the more 
they tear each other, the more desperate they become. 
If some one pounds the dog from beliind, he thinks it 
is the other dog that is biting, and grows madder still. 
So it was with these muzhiks. They went ahead with 
their lawsuits : either one or the other would get pun- 
ished by fine or arrest ; and for all that, their hearts 
were filled with still greater hatred. 

“ Just wait ! I’ll get even with you 3"et ! ” 

Thus their affairs dragged on for six 3’ears. Still 
the old man on the oven kept saying the same thing. 
He used to try to reason with them : — 

“What are 3'ou doing, children? Drop all these 
doings ; don’t neglect 3"Our business, and don’t bear 
malice ; it will be much better. For the angrier 3'ou 
get, the worse it becomes.” 

They pay no attention to the old man. 

On the seventh year it came to pass that at a wed- 
ding, Ivdn’s daughter-in-law insulted Gavrilo in the 


YOU DON'T PUT IT OUT. 


7 


presence of the people. She began to accuse him of 
horse-stealing. Gavrilo was drunk ; he could not con- 
trol his temper, and he struck the baba ; he hit her so 
hard that she was confined to her bed for a whole 
week, for she was a rather stout baba. Ivdn was glad 
of the occurrence, and he went for a warrant at the 
magistrate’s. 

“Now,” thinks he, “I shall square accounts with 
my neighbor: he shall not escape prison or Siberia.” 
But again Ivtbi lost his case. The magistrate did not 
accept his petition : the baba was examined ; when the 
baba got up, there were no marks at all on her. Ivhn 
went to the justice of the peace, and the latter trans- 
ferred the case to the district court. Ivdn began to 
bother the volost : he drank up two or three gallons of 
mead with the secretary and the elderd and he succeeded 
in having Gavrilo sentenced to be whipped. They read 
the sentence to Gavrilo in court. The secretary read 
it : — 

“The court has decided that the peasant Gavrilo 
Gordy^ef is to be punished with twenty lashes in pres- 
ence of the court.” 

Ivdn also listens to the sentence, and looks at Ga- 
vrilo : — “ Now, what will become of him ? ” Gavrilo 
listened to it, turned as white as a sheet, turned around, 
and went out into the ante-chamber. Iv^n followed 
him, started to go to his horse ; but he heard Gavrilo 
saying, — 

“ All right,” says he : “ he will lash my back ; it will 
burn ; but something worse may happen to him.” 

Ivan heard these words, and immediately turned to 
the judges. 

“Just judges! he has threatened to set my house 


Starshind. 


8 


IF YOU NEGLECT THE FIRE, 


ou fire ! Listen : he said it in the presence of wit- 
nesses ! ” 

Gavrilo was called back. 

“Is it true you said so? ” 

“ I said nothing. Lash me, since you have the power. 
It seems that I am the only one to suffer, though I am 
right ; but he’s allowed to do any thing.” 

Gavrilo wanted to say more, but his lips and cheeks 
began to tremble. And he turned his face to the par- 
tition. Even the judges were frightened as they looked 
at Gavrilo. “ Now,” they think, “ suppose he actually 
makes up his mind to do some harm to his neighbor or 
himself.” And the little old judge began to speak : — 

“ See here, brothers ! you had better make up 3 ’our 
minds to become friends again. You, brother Gavrilo, 
did you do right in striking the stout baba? It is for- 
tunate for you that God spared her, else what a sin 
you would have committed. Was it right? Confess, 
and ask his pardon, and he will forgive you. Then 
we’ll change the sentence.” 

When the secretary heard it, he said, “ This cannot 
be done, because, according to the 117th article, there 
was no peaceful settlement ; but the judge’s sentence 
was passed, and the sentence must be carried out.” 

But the judge did not heed the secretary. “Your 
tongue has itched to speak long enough. There is only 
one article, and that is the first. Remember God ; and 
God has commanded that you become reconciled.” 
And again the judge tried to persuade the muzhiks, 
but his words were in vain. Gavrilo paid no heed to 
his words. 

“ I am almost fifty years old,” he says. “ I have a 
married son, and I was never beaten in all my life ; but 
now this pig-headed Vanka has brought me under the 


YOU DON'T PUT IT OUT. 


9 


lash, and yet I am to ask his forgiveness, am I ? Well — 
it will — let Vanka look out for me ! ” 

Gavrilo’s voice trembled again : he could talk no 
longer. He turned around and went out. 

It was ten versts from the court-house to the door, 
and it was late when Ivan went home. The babas had 
already gone to get the cattle. He unharnessed his 
horses, put things away, and went into the house. 
There was no one in the izba. The children had not 
3'et returned from the field, and the babas were after 
the cattle. Iv^n went in, sat down on the bench, and 
became lost in thought. 

He remembered how the sentence was read to Ga- 
vrilo, and how he turned pale, and faced the partition ; 
and his heart felt oppressed. He imagined himself in 
the same position, about to receive the punishment of 
lashes. And he began to pity Gavrilo. And he heard 
the old man coughing on the oven, then shifting from 
side to side, stretching out his legs, and then clamber- 
ing down to the floor. The old man clambered down, 
dragged himself to the bench, and sat down. The old 
man found it hard to drag himself to the bench ; he 
coughed and coughed ; and when his coughing-fit 
was over, he leaned his elbows on the table, and 
sa}^s, — 

“ Well, was he sentenced?’’ 

Ivan sa3’s, — 

“Sentenced to twenty lashes.” 

The old man shook his head. 

“You are doing wrong, Ivdn ! ” says he. “ Akh ! 
wrong ! Not to him, but to yourself, you are doing 
wrong. Now, suppose they lash his back : will it do 
you any good? ” 

“ He won’t do it any more,” said Ivdn. 


10 


IF YOU NEGLECT THE FIRE, 


“What won’t he do an}' more? Is he doing any 
thing worse than you do ? ” 

“ Do you want to know what he has done to me? ” 
asked Ivdn. “ Why, he nearly killed the baba, and 
even now he threatened to set the house on fire ! 
Why must I beg his pardon for it? ” 

The old man sighed, and said, — 

“This whole free world is open for you, Ivdn, to come 
and go upon ; and because I have been lying on the 
oven for these last few years, you must think that you 
see all, and I see nothing. No, young man, you see 
nothing at all : anger has blinded your eyes. The faults 
of others are before you, but your own are behind your 
back. You say he did wrong : if he were the only man 
to do wrong, then there would be no wickedness in the 
world. Does wrong arise among people on account of 
one man? There must be two in a quarrel. You can 
see his sins, but you can’t see your own. Had he been 
the only one to do wrong, and you had done right, there 
would have been no quarrel. Who pulled out his beard ? 
Who threw down his hay-rick? Who dragged him 
ai-ound in the courts ? And yet you blame him for every 
thing ! Your own life is wrong, and that is bad. That 
isn’t the way I used to live, brother: that isn’t what 
I taught you. Is that the way that the old man — his 
father — and I used to live? How did we live? Like 
good neighbors. If he was out of flour, the baba would 
come — " Uncle Frol, we are out of flour.’ — ‘ eJust go 
to the closet, young woman, and get what you need.' 
He had no one to tend to the horses — " Go, Vanyatka,^ 
and take care of his horses.’ And whatever I am short 
of, I go to him — ‘ Uncle Gordyei, I need such and such 
a thing.’ — ‘ Take it, uncle Frol ! ’ And so it used to 


1 Diraiaished diminutive of Ivan. 


YOU DON'T DVT IT OUT. 


11 


go with us. And it used to be the same nice way with 
you. And how is it now? Now, a soldier was telling 
about Plevna : well, your quarrel is worse than that of 
Plevna. Is this living? It’s a sin ! You are a muzhik, 
you are master of a house. You will have to answer 
for it. What are 3^011 teaching your babas and children 
to do? To fight like dogs ! The other day, Taraska, 
that dirtj^-nosed rascal, was abusing aunt Arina and her 
mother’s memory, and his own mother was enjoying 
it. Is that good? You’ll have to answer for it. Just 
think about vour soul. Ought things to go on this 
wa}’? You give me a word — I give 3^011 two back: 
3’ou give me a slap — I give back two. No, my 
dear. Christ went about on earth, but he did not 
teach us fools such things. If a word is said to 3^011, 
hold your peace : his own conscience will accuse him. 
That is the way he taught ns, bdtinshka. If any one 
slap you, turn the other cheek : ‘ Here, strike, if I 
am worth it.’ And his conscience will prick him. 
He will be disarmed, and will hear what 3'ou have to 
say. That is the wa3^ He commanded us, but not to 
be stiff-necked. Why don’t you say something? am 
I not telling you the truth? ” 

Ivan is silent — he is listening. 

The old man had a fit of coughing ; raised some 
phlegm, and began to speak again. 

“ Do you think that what Christ taught us is wrong? 
It was intended for us for our good. Think about 
your eartlily life : has it been good, or bad, for you 
since this Plevna began between you? Just count up 
how much 3’ou have lost 1)3" these lawsuits, 3’our travel- 
ling expenses, and all 3"ou have spent in eating. Those 
sons of yours are growing like young eagles : you ought 
to be living and enjoying life, and ‘ climb the mountain ; ’ 


12 


IF YOU NEGLECT THE FIRE, 


and here 3^011 are losing what 3’on have ! And why is 
it? It is all for nothing ! All because of your pride ! 
You ought to go with your children, and work in the 
field, and do the planting yourself ; but the Devil drives 
you off, either to the judge or to the pettifogger. You 
are late in getting up, you don’t plant at the right time, 
and in/itushka Earth does not bring fortli her fruit. 
Why were there no oats this year? When did j^ou sow 
them? When you came from town! And what did 
you gain? You got up to 3^011 r neck! Ekh ! you 
foolish fellow ! just attend to business. Work with 
your bo3"S in the field and in the house : and if any one 
insults 3’ou, then forgive them in God’s name ; and you 
will be far better off, and your heart will feel much 
easier.” 

Ivan said nothing. 

“ Just see here, Van3"a ! Listen to me : I am an old 
man. Go and harness the roan, go right back to court 
again, have all 3^0111’ cases dismissed, and in the morn- 
ing go to Gavrilo, beg his forgiveness in God’s name, 
invite him to the house, — to-morrow is a holiday 
(this happened to be Christmas Eve), — light the sam- 
ovarchik,^ bring out a bottle, and clear up all the sins 
so that the3" may not happen again, and tell the babas 
and the cliildren to do the same.” 

Ivfin sighed, and thinks, “The old man says right,” 
and his heart softened : 01113^ he does not know how to 
begin, how to become reconciled now. 

And the old man began again, as though he read his 
thoughts. 

“Go ahead, Vanya! don’t put it off. Put out the 
fire when it first begins ; but when it burns up, it is hard 
to do it.” 


J Little tea-urn. 


YOU DON'T PUT IT OUT. 


13 


The old man started to say something more, but he 
did not finish : the babas came into the izba, and it 
sounded like a convention of crows. All the news 
had reached them, — how Gavrilo had been sentenced 
to be lashed, and how he had threatened to set their 
house on fire. They had heard every thing, and they 
made their own additions ; and they had already suc- 
ceeded in getting into a quarrel with Gavrilo’s babas, 
in the pasture. 

They began to tell how Gavrilo’s daughter-in-law 
had threatened to set the marshal on them. The mar- 
shal, it seems, takes Gavrilo’s part. He will reverse 
the whole case : and the school-teacher, it seems, had 
written a second petition to the tsar himself, against 
Ivdn, and put in the petition all the things, about the 
bolt, and about the garden, and half of the farm would 
now be given to them. As Ivdn listened to their 
speeches, his heart grew hard again, and he changed 
his mind about becoming reconciled with Gavrilo. 

The farmer always has many things to do about his 
dvor. Ivdn did not care to talk to the babas, so he got 
up and left the izbd : he went to the threshing-fioor 
and to the shed. Before he had finished his work, and 
returned to the door, the little sun was already set : the 
boys, too, had come in from the field. They were pre- 
paring to plough for the spring-corn. Ivdn met them, 
asked them about their work ; he helped them put 
away their tools, laid aside the torn horse-collar ; he 
was going also to put away the poles under the shed, 
but it had already become quite dark. 

Ivan left the poles till the next daj^, but he fed the 
cattle ; he opened the gates, and let Taraska take his 
horses to the pasture for the night, and shut them again, 
set up the gate-pole. “ Now for supper and bed,” 


14 


IF YOU NEGLECT THE FIRE, 


thought Ivdn, as he picked up the tom collar, and went 
into the izba. 

By this time be had forgotten all about Gavrilo, and 
all that his father had said to him. He had scarcely 
taken hold of the door-knob, and entered the vestibule, 
when he heard his neighbor from behind the fence 
scolding some one iu a hoarse voice. “Who in the 
Devil is Gavrilo pitching into now? ’’ 

“ He ought to be killed ! ” 

When Ivdn heard these words, all his former anger 
against his neighbor arose in him. He stood for a 
wliile and listened while Gavrilo was scolding. When 
Gavrilo became quiet, Ivdn went into the izbd. He 
entered the izbd. The izbd was lighted up. The molo- 
ddika was sitting in one corner with her spinning- 
wheel, the old woman was getting supper, the oldest 
son was twisting cloth around his lapti.^ The second 
one was sitting by the table with a little book. Tardska 
was going out for the night. 

In the izbd, all had been pleasant, comfortable, if it 
had not been for this bad neighbor. 

Ivdn came in angry, pushed the cat from the bench, 
scolded the babas because the slop-pail wasn’t in the 
right place. Ivdn felt blue ; he sat down, frowned, 
and began to mend the horse-collar ; and Gavrilo’s 
words kept rising in his mind, how he threatened him 
at court, and how he just now shouted in a hoarse voice 
about some one, “ He ought to be killed ! ” 

The old woman prepared supper for Taraska : he ate 
it, put on his sheep-skin shubyonka, his kaftan, put on 

* Lapti are the wooden sandals worn by the peasants of Great Russia and 
White Russia instead of boots; the leg being wrapped up in rags or cloths, 
and fastened with strings. One of the Russian poets sings, **Starani$ 
sapogi, lapti gulaiut ; ” — “ Away with boots, let the lapti have full sway;” 
that is, the peasant will sometime have his share in the world’s fun.” 


YOU DON'T PUT IT OUT. 


15 


his belt, took some bread, and went out to his horses. 
His older brother intended to see him out ; but Ivdn 
rose, and went to the front steps. It was already dusky 
on the street ; it was beginning to grow quite dark ; the 
clouds covered the sk}", and a wind sprung up. Ivdn 
descended the steps, helped his son to mount, stirred 
up the little colt, then he stood for a while looking and 
listening as Taraska galloped down through the village, 
as he greeted the other boys, and as they all went out 
of hearing distance. Ivdn stood long at tlie gate, and 
Gavrilo’s words did not leave his mind: “ Something 
worse may happen to 3’ou.” 

“ He would not take pity on himself,” thought Ivdn. 
“ Every thing is dried up, and there is a wind besides. 
He might get in from the rear, start a fire, and all would 
be up with us : the villain might burn us up, and not 
get caught. Now, if I could only catch him, he would 
not get off so easy.” 

And thus it occurred to Ivdn not to go back by the 
front way ; but he went straight into the street, and hid 
in a corner behind the gate. 

No, I’ll go round the dvor. Who knows what he’s 
up to now? ” 

And Ivdn crept quietly alongside of the gates. Just 
as he turned around the corner, and looked in the direc- 
tion of the fence, it seemed to him that he saw some- 
thing move in the corner, as though some one stuck 
his head out, and then hid again. 

Ivdn stood still, and hold his breath. He listened, 
and strained his eyes ; all was quiet ; only the wind 
was rustling the little leaves on the twigs, and whistling 
in the straw-heap. Sometimes it was as dark as a 
pocket.^ And then, again, his eyes got accustomed to 

1 Literally, “ as though an eye were taken out.” 


16 


IF YOU NEGLECT THE FIRE, 


the darkness ; and Ivdn could see the whole corner, and 
the sokha-plough, and the sloping roof. He stood 
for a while, and gazed, but there was no one to be 
seen. 

“It must have been a deception,"’ thought Ivdn : 
“still, I will make a turn around.” And he went 
stealthily alongside the shed. Iviln crept softly, in 
his sabots, so that he himself could not hear his own 
steps. He reached the corner, and lo ! at the very 
farther end something near the plough flashed up and 
instantly vanished again. A pang seized Ivan’s heart, 
and he stood still. He had scarcely stopped before a 
brighter light flashed up in the same place, and a man 
with a cap on was plainly seen squatting down with his 
back turned, and was trying to kindle a bundle of 
straw that he held in his hand. 

Ivan’s heart began to flutter like a bird ; and he 
braced himself up, and advanced with long steps, but 
so cautiously that he himself could not hear them. 

“Now,” says he to himself, “I’ve got him now; 
I’ve caught him in the very act.” 

But before Ivdn had gone two more stei:>s, suddenly 
something flared up brightly, — brightly, but in an en- 
tirely different place ; and it was no small fire, either : 
and the straw blazed up under the pent-roof, and began 
to spread toward the house ; and then Gavrilo was seen 
standing in the light. 

Like a hawk on a sparrow, Ivan threw himself on 
the cripple. 

“I’ll choke the life out of him! he won’t escape 
me this time,” he says to himself. But the cripple 
must have heard his steps : he looked around, and, in 
spite of his lameness, leaped like a rabbit toward the 
shed. 


YOU DON'T PUT IT OUT. 


17 


“You sha’n’t escape! ” shouted Ivdn, and he flew 
after him. 

But just as he was about to get him by the collar, 
Gavrilo slipped from under his hand, and Ivan caught 
him by the coat-tail. The coat-tail tore out, and Ivan 
fell. Ivdn leaped to his feet. “ Help ! Catch him ! ” 
And he started after him again. 

But, by the time he got to his feet, Gavrilo was 
already at his own dvor ; but Ivdn caught up with him, 
even then. But, as he tried to lay hands on him, some- 
thing struck him on the head, as though a stone had 
hit his temple. It was Gavrilo, who had picked up an 
oak stave ; and when Ivdn came up to him, he struck 
him on the head with all his force. 

Ivdn saw stars ; every thing grew dark ; he staggered, 
and fell senseless. When he came to, Gavrilo was 
gone ; it w'as as light as day ; in the direction of his 
yard, there was a noise like a machine, a crackling and 
roaring. Ivdn turned around, and saw that the back- 
shed was already gone, that the side-shed was on fire, 
and the flame and smoke and burning straw were drift- 
ing toward the izbd. 

“What does this mean? Heavens and earth, 
bratsui! ” ^ exclaimed Ivdn, lifting his hand, and slap- 
ping his thigh. “All it needs, is to pull down the 
pent-roof, and trample it out. What does it mean, 
bratsui?'* he repeated. 

He tried to shout, but he had no breath : his voice 
stuck in his throat. He tried to run, but his feet 
refused to move : they tripped each other up. He 
merel}" walked and staggered : again his breath failed 
him. He stood for a moment, got his wdnd, and then 
started again. While he was making his way round 

1 Bratsui, literally brothers. 


18 


IF YOU NEGLECT THE FIRE, 


to the shod, and getting to the fire, the side-shed also 
burned to the gi’ound, and the corner, of the izba and 
the gates caught fire. The flames poured up from the 
izbd, and all entrance to the door was cut off. A great 
crowd gathered, but nothing could be done. The neigh- 
bors were carrying out their own effects, and driving 
their cattle out of their yards. 

After Ivan’s dvor had burned up, Gavrilo’s took 
fire : the wind arose, and carried the fire across the 
street. Half the village was destroyed. 

From Ivan’s house the old man was rescued with dif- 
ficulty, and his people l uslied out with only the clothes 
they had on. Every thing else was burned, with the 
exception of the horses, that had gone to the night- 
pasture. All the cattle were destroyed. The poultry 
were burned on their roosts : the telyegas, the ploughs, 
the harrows, the women’s boxes, the corn and wheat in 
the granary, every thing was destroyed. 

Gavrilo’s cattle were rescued, and a few of his 
effects were removed in safety. 

The fire lasted all night long. Ivdn stood by his 
dvor, and gazed, and kept repeating, “ What does this 
mean? Heavens and earth ! All it needs, is to pull it 
down, and trample it out.” 

But, when the ceiling of his izbd fell in, he crept up 
close to the fire, caught hold of a burning beam, and 
tried to pull it out. The babas saw him, and began to 
call him back ; but he pulled the beam out, and went 
back after another, but staggered, and fell into the fire. 

Then his son dashed in after him, and pulled him 
out. Ivdn’s beard and hair wmre burned off, his clothes 
were scorched, his hands were ruined, and yet he did 
not notice it. “ He has lost his wits from grief,” said 
the crowd. 


YOU DON'T PUT IT OUT. 


19 


The fire began to die down ; and Ivdn still stood in 
the same place, and kept repeating, “ Heavens and 
earth ! Only pull it down ! ” 

In the morning the starosta sent his son after 
Ivan. 

“ Uncle Ivan, j^our father is dying : he wants you to 
come and say good-b}'.” 

Ivdn had forgotten all about his father, and did not 
comprehend what they said to him. 

‘‘ What father? ” says he : “ wants whom? ” 

“He wants you to come and bid him good-by: he 
is dying in our izbd. Come, let us go, uncle Ivan,” 
said the village elder’s son, and took him by the hand. 
Ivan followed the stdrosta’s son. 

The old man, when he was rescued, was surrounded 
by burning straw, and was badly burned. He was 
taken to the starosta’s, at the farther end of the village. 
That part of the village was not burned. 

When Ivdn came to his father, there was no one in 
the izbd except a little old woman, — the stdrosta’s wife, 
— and some children on the oven. All the rest were at 
the fire. The old man was lying on the bench wdth a 
little candle in his hand, and was gazing at the door. 
When his son entered, he started. The old woman 
went to him, and told him that his son had come. He 
asked him to come nearer. Ivan approached, and the 
old man said, — 

“Well, Vdnyatka,” he said, “I told you so. Who 
burned up the village? ” 

“ He, bdtiushka,” said Ivdn. “I myself caught him 
at it. Right before my eyes he touched off the roof. 
All I needed to do, was to pull out the bunch of burn- 
ing straw, trample it down, and it would never have 
happened.” 


20 


IF YOU NEGLECT THE FIRE, 


“Ivan,” said the old man, “m3" death has come : 
3"Ou, too, will have to die. Whose sin is it?” 

Ivdn looked at his father, and said nothing. He 
could not utter a word. 

“Tell me in God’s presence! Whose sin was it? 
What did I tell you?” 

Only at this moment Ivdn came to himself, and com- 
prehended all. He began to snufiie with his nose, and 
said, — 

“ Mine, bdtiushka ! ” and he fell on his knees before 
his father, began to weep, and said, — 

“ Forgive me, bdtiushka : I am guilty before 3"ou and 
before God.” 

The old man waved his hands, took the candle in his 
left, and pointed with his right to his forehead ; tried 
to cross himself, but failed to lift it high enough, and 
stopped short. 

“ Praise the Lord, praise the Lord! ” he said, and 
then he looked sternly at his son. 

“ But Vdnka, Vdnka ! ” 

“ What is it, bdtiushka? ” 

“ What ought 3"ou to do now? ” 

Ivdn kept on weeping. 

“ I don’t know, bdtiushka,” he said. “ How are we 
going to live now, bdtiushka?” 

The old man shut his eyes, moved his lips, as though 
trying to gather his strength ; and then he opened his 
eyes again, and said, “You will get along ! if 3^ou live 
with God — 3^011 will get along.” 

The old man stopped speaking, and smiled, and 
said, “Look, Vanya! don’t tell who set the fire. 
Hide your neighbor’s sin, and God will forgive two 
sins.” 

The old man took the candle in both his hands, held 


YOU DON'T PUT IT OUT. 


21 


them crossed on his breast, sighed, stretched himself, 
and died. 

Ivdn did not expose Gavrilo, and no one knew who 
set the fire. 

And Ivdn’s heart grew soft toward Gavrilo, and 
Gavrilo was surprised because Ivdn did not tell any 
one about him. At first Gavrilo was afraid of him, 
but afterwards he got accustomed to it. The muzhiks 
ceased to quarrel, their families also. While they 
were rebuilding, both families lived in one dvor ; and 
when the village was restored, and the dvors were 
put at a greater distance apart, Ivan and Gavrilo 
again became neighbors in one nest. 

And Iviin and Gavrilo lived in neighborly fashion, 
just as the old men used to live. And Ivan Shcher- 
bakof remembers the old man’s advice, and God’s 
proof that a fire ought to be quenched at the begin- 
ning. 

And if any one does him harm, he does not try to 
retaliate, but he tries to arrange things ; and if any 
one calls him a bad name, he does not try to outdo 
him in his reply, but he tries to teach him not to say 
bad things ; and thus he teaches his babas and children ; 
and thus Ivan Shcherbakof reformed, and began to live 
better than before. 


WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO. 


1885. 


In the city lived IMartuin Avdycdtch, a shoemaker. 
He lived in a basement, in a little room with one win- 
dow. The window looked out on the street. Through 
the window he used to watch the people passing by : 
although only their feet could be seen, yet by the boots 
Martnin Avdyeitch recognized their owners. Martuin 
Avdy4itch had lived long in one place, and had many 
acquaintances. Few pairs of boots in his district had 
not been in his hands once and again. Some he would 
half-sole, some he would patch, some he wotild stitch 
around, and occasionally he would also put on new 
uppers. And through the window he quite often recog- 
nized his work. Avdyeitch had plenty to do, because 
he was a faithful workman, used good material, did not 
make exorbitant charges, and kept his word. If he 
can finish an order by a certain time, he accepts it : if 
not, he will not deceive you, — he tells you so before- 
hand. And all knew Avdyeitch, and he was never out 
of work. 

Avdyi^itch had always been a good man ; but as he 
grew old, he began to think more about his soul, and 
get nearer to God. Martuin’s wife had died when he 
was still living with his master. His wife left him a 
boy three years old. None of their other children had 
22 


WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO. 


lived. All the eldest had died in-ehildhood. Martuin 
at first inteuded to send his little son to his sister in the 
village, but afterwards he felt sorry for him : he thought 
to himself, ‘‘It will be hard for my Kapitoshka to live 
in a strange family. I shall keei) him with me.” 

And Avdyeitch left his master, and went into lodgings 
with his little son. But, through God’s will, Avdyeitch 
had no luck with children. As Kapitoshka grew older, 
he began to help his father, and would have been 
a delight to him, but fell sick, went to bed, suffered a 
week, and died. Martuin buried his son, and fell into 
des[)air. So deep was this despair, that he began to 
eom[)lain of God. Martuin fell into such a melancholy 
state, that more than once he prayed to God for death, 
and reproached God because he did not take away him 
who was an old man, instead of his beloved only son. 
Avdy(5itch also ceased to go to church. 

And once a little old man, a fellow-countryman, 
came from Troitsa (Trinity) to see Avdyeitch : for 
seven 3’ears he had been absent. Avdyeitch talked 
with him, and began to complain about his sorrows. 

“ I have no more desire to live,” he said : “ I only 
wish I was dead. That is all I pray God for. I am a 
man without an}’ thing to hope for now.” 

And the little old man said to him, — 

“ You don’t talk right, Martuin : we must not judge 
God’s doings. The world moves, not by your skill, 
but by God’s will. God decreed for your son to die, — 
for you — to live. Consequently, it is for the best. 
And you are in despair, because you wish to live for 
your own happiness.” 

“ But what shall one live for? ” asked Martuin. 

And the little old man said, “ We must live for God, 
Martuin. He gives you life, and for his sake you 


21 


WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO. 


must live. When 3'ou begin to live for him, you will 
not grieve over any thing, and all will seem easy to 
you.” 

Martuin kept silent for a moment, and then saj^s, 
“ But how can one live for the sake of God?” 

And the little old man said, “ Christ has taught us 
how to live for God. You know how to read? Bin' a 
Testament, and read it ; there 3’ou will learn how to 
live for God. Every thing b explained there.” 

And these words kindled a fire in Avdyeitch’s heart. 
And he went that veiy same day, bought a New Tes- 
tament in large print, and began to read. At first 
Avd^'ditch intended to read only on holiday’s ; but as 
he began to read, it so cheered his soul that he used to 
read eveiy day. At times he would become so absorbed 
in reading, that all the kerosene in tiie lamp would burn 
out, and still he could not tear himself away. And so 
Avdy^itch used to read eveiy evening. And the more 
he read, the clearer he understood what God wanted of 
him, and how one should live for God ; and his heart 
constantl}" grew easier and easier. Formerly, when 
he lay down to sleep, he used to sigh and groan, and 
alwaj's think of his Kapitoshka ; and now he onl^' ex- 
claimed, Gloiy to thee! glory to thee. Lord! Th}' 
will be done.” 

And from that time Avdy^itch’s whole life was 
changed. In other days he, too, used to drop into a 
saloon, as a holiday amusement, to drink a cup of tea ; 
and he was not averse to a little brandv either. lie 
would take a drink with some acquaintance, and leave 
the saloon, not intoxicated exactl^q 3'et in a happy 
frame of mind, and inclined to talk nonsense, and 
shout, and use abusive language at a person. Now 
he left off this sort of thing. Ills life became quiet 


WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO. 25 


and joyful. In the morning he sits down to work, 
finishes his allotted task, then takes the little lamp 
from the liook, puts it on the table, gets his book from 
the shelf, opens it, and sits down to read. And the more 
he reads, the more he understands, and the brighter 
and happier it is in his heart. 

Once it happened that Martuin read till late into the 
night. He was reading the Gospel of Luke. He was 
reading over the sixth chapter ; and he was reading the 
verses, “And unto him that smiteth thee on the one 
cheek offer also the other ; and him that taketh away 
thy cloak forbid not to take thy coat also. Give to 
every man that asketh of thee ; and of him that taketh 
away thy goods ask them not again. And as ye would 
that men should do to you, do 3"e also to them like- 
wise.” He read further also those verses, where God 
speaks : “ And wh}^ call yQ me. Lord, Lord, and do not 
the things whicli I sa}’? Whosoever cometh to me, and 
heareth my sa3dngs, and doeth them, I will shew 3*011 to 
whom he is like : he is like a man which built an house, 
and digged deep, and laid the foundation on a rock : 
and when the flood arose, the stream beat vehemently 
upon that house, and could not shake it : for it was 
founded upon a rock. But he that heareth, and doeth 
not, is like a man that without a foundation built an 
house upon the earth ; against which the stream did 
beat vehementl3*, and immediately it fell ; and the ruin 
of that house was great.” 

Avd3^eitch read these words, and jo3" filled his soul. 
He took off his spectacles, put them down on the book, 
leaned his elbows upon the table, and became lost in 
thought. And he began to measure his life by these 
words. And he thought to himself, — 

“ Is m3* house built upon the rock, or upon the sand? 


26 WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO. 

’Tis well if on the rock. It is so easy when you are 
alone b}’ yourself ; it seems as if you had done every 
thing as God commands : but when you forget 3"Our- 
self, you sin again. Yet I shall still struggle on. It 
is very good. Help me, Lord ! ” 

Thus ran his thoughts : he wanted to go to bed, but 
he felt loath to tear himself away from the book. And 
he began to read further in the seventh chapter. He 
read about the centurion, he read about the widow’s 
sou, he read about the answer given to John’s disciples, 
and finally he came to that place where the rich Phari- 
see desired the Lord to sit at meat with him ; and he 
read how the woman that was a sinner anointed his 
feet, and washed them with her tears, and how he for- 
gave her. He reached the forty-fourth verse, and be- 
gan to read, — 

“And he turned to the woman, and said unto 
Simon, Seest thou this woman? I entered into thine 
house, thou gavest me no water for my feet: but she 
Lath washed my feet with tears, and wiped them with 
the hairs of her head. Thou gavest me no kiss : but 
this woman since the time I came in hath not ceased to 
kiss my feet. ISIy head with oil thou didst not anoint : 
but this woman hath anointed my feet with ointment.” 
He finished reading these verses, and thought to him- 
self, “ Thou gavest me no ivater for my feet, thou 
gavest me no kiss. My head ivitli oil thou didst not 
anoint.’' 

And again Avdyeitch took off his spectacles, put 
them down upon the book, and again he became lost in 
thought. 

“ It seems that Pharisee must have been such a 
man as I am. I, too, apparently have thought only of 
m^'self, — how I might have my tea, be warm and 


WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO. 


27 


comfortable, but never to think about my guest. He 
thought about himself, but there was not the least care 
taken of the guest. And who was his guest? The 
Lord himself. If he had come to me, should I have 
done the same way ? ’ ’ 

Avdyeitch rested his head upon both his arms, and 
did not notice how he fell asleep. 

“ Martuin ! ” suddenly seemed to sound in his ears. 

Martuin started from his sleep : “ Who is here? ” 

He turned around, glanced toward the door — no 
one. 

Again he fell into a doze. Suddenly he plainly 
hears, — 

“ Martuin! Ah, Martuin! look to-morrow on the 
street. I am coming.” 

Martuin awoke, rose from the chair, began to rub his 
eyes. He himself does not know whether he heard 
those words in his dream, or in reality. He turned 
down his lamp, and went to bed. 

At daybreak next morning, Avdyeitch rose, made 
his prayer to God, lighted the stove, put on the shchi ^ 
and the kasha put the water in the samovar, put on 
his apron, and sat down by the window to work. 

Avdyeitch is working, and at the same time thinking 
a])out all that had happened yesterday. He thinks 
both ways : now he thinks it was a dream, and now he 
thinks he really heard a voice. “ Well,” he thinks, 
“ such things have been.” 

Martuin is sitting by the window, and does not work 
as much as he looks through the window : when any 
one passes by in boots that he does not know, he bends 
down, looks out of the window, in order to see, not only 
the feet, but also the face. The dvornik^ passed by in 

1 Cabbage-soup. * Gruel. ® House-porter. 


28 WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO. 


new valenki;'^ the water-carrier passed by ; then came 
alongside of the window an old soldier of Nicholas’s 
time, in an old pair of laced felt boots, with a shovel in 
his hands. Avdyeitch recognized him by his felt boots. 
The old man’s name was StepAnnitch ; and a neigh- 
boring merchant, out of charity, gave him a home with 
him. He was required to assist the dvornik. Stepdn- 
uitch began to shovel away the snow from in front of 
Avdyeitch’s window. Avdyeitch glanced at him, and 
took up his woi’k again. 

“Pshaw! I must be getting crazy in my old age,” 
said Avdyeitch, and laughed at himself. “ Stepan- 
uitch is clearing away the snow, and I imagine that 
Christ is coming to see me. I was entirely out of my 
mind, old dotard that I am I ” Avdyeitch sewed about 
a dozen stitches, and then felt impelled to look through 
the window again. He looked out again through the 
window, and sees Stepdnuitch has leaned his shovel 
against the wall, and is either warming himself, or rest- 
ing. He is an old, broken-down man : evidently he 
has not strength enough, even to shovel the snow. 
Avdyeitch said to himself, “ I will give him some tea : 
by the way, the samovar must be boiling by this time.” 
Avdyeitch laid down his awl, rose from his seat, put 
the samovar on the table, made the tea, and tapped with 
his finger at the glass. Stepiinuitch turned around, 
and came to the window. Avdyeitch beckoned to him, 
and went to open the door. 

“Come in, warm 3’ourself a little,” he said. “ You 
must be cold.” 

“ May Christ reward you for this ! my bones ache,” 
said Stepiinuitch. 

Stcpdnuitch came in, and shook off the snow, tried 


Felt boots. 


WHERE LOVE JS, THERE GOD IS ALSO. 29 

to wipe his feet, so as not to soil the floor, but stag- 
gered. 

“ Don’t trouble to wipe your feet. I will clean it up 
m3^self : we are used to such things. Come in and sit 
down,” said Avdyeitch. “ Drink a cup of tea.” 

And Avdyeitch filled two glasses, and handed one to 
his guest ; while he himself poured his tea into a saucer, 
and began to blow it. 

Stepdnuitch finished drinking his glass of tea, turned 
the glass upside down,^ put upon it the half-eaten lump 
of sugar, and began to express his thanks. But it was 
evident he wanted some more. 

“ Have some more,” said Avdyeitch, filling both his 
own glass and his guest’s. Avd^^eitch drinks his tea, 
but from time to time keeps glancing out into the 
street. 

“ Are 3^ou expecting any one? ” asked his guest. 

“ Am I expecting any one? I am ashamed even to 
tell whom I expect. I am, and I am not, expecting 
some one ; but one word has impressed itself upon my 
heart. Whether it is a dream, or something else, I 
do not know. Don’t 3"ou see, brother, I was reading 
yesterday the gospel about Christ, the Bdtiushka ; ^ how 
he suffered, how he walked on the earth. I suppose 
you have heard about it ? ” 

“Indeed I have,” replied Stepdnuitch : “ but we are 
people in darkness ; we can’t read.” 

“ Well, now, I was reading about that very thing, — 
how he walked upon the earth : I read, you know, how 
he comes to the Pharisee, and the Pharisee did not 
treat him hospitably. Well, and so, my brother, I was 
reading, yesterday, about this very thing, and was 
thinking to myself how he did not receive Christ, the 

1 A custom among the Russians. 


2 Little father. 


30 WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD JS ALSO. 

Batiushka, with honor. If, for example, he should 
come to me, or any one else, I think to myself, I should 
not even know liow to receive him. And he gave him 
no reception at all. Well ! while I was thus thinking, I 
fell asleep, brother, and I hear some one call me b}" 
name. I got up : the voice, just as though some one 
whispered, says, ‘ Be on the watch : I shall come to- 
morrow.’ And this happened twice. Well! would 
you believe it, it got into my head ? I scold myself — 
and yet I am expecting him, the Batiushka.” 

Stepdnuitch shook his head, and said nothing : he 
finished drinking his glass of tea, and put it on the side ; 
but Avdyeitch picked up the glass again, and filled it 
once more. 

“ Drink some more for your good health. You see, 
I have an idea, that, when the Bdtiushka went about on 
this earth, he disdained no one, and had more to do 
with the simple people. He always went to see the 
simple people. He picked out his disciples more 
from among our brethren, sinners like ourselves from 
the working-class. He, says he, who exalts him- 
self, shall be humbled, and he who is humbled shall 
become exalted. You, says he, call me Lord, and I, 
says he, wash your feet. Whoever wishes, says he, to 
be the first, the same shall be a servant to all. Because, 
says he, blessed are the poor, the humble, the kind, 
the generous.” And Stepdnuitch forgot about his tea : 
he was an old man, and easily moved to tears. He is 
sitting listening, and the tears are rolling down his 
face. 

“ Come, now, have some more tea,” said Avdy^ntch ; 
but Stepanuitch made the sign of the cross, thanked 
him, turned up his glass, and arose. 

“ Thanks to you,” he says, “ Martuin Avdyeitch, 


WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO. 31 

for treating me ^kindly, and satisfying me, soul and 
body.” 

“ You are welcome ; come in again ; always glad to 
see a friend,” said Avdy^itch. 

Stepdnuitch departed ; and Martuin poured out the 
rest of the tea, drank it up, put away the dishes, and 
sat down again by the window to work, to stitch on 
a patch. He is stitching, and at the same time look- 
ing through the window. He is expecting Christ, and 
is all the while thinking of him and his deeds, and 
his head is filled with the different speeches of Christ. 

Two soldiers passed by : one wore boots furnished 
by the Crown, and the other one, boots that he had 
made ; then the master ^ of the next house, passed 
by in shining galoshes ; then a baker with a basket 
passed by. All passed by ; and now there came also 
by the window a woman in woollen stockings and 
wooden shoes. She passed by the window, and stood 
still near the window-case. 

Avdy^itch looked up at her from the window, sees it 
is a strange woman poorly clad, and with a child : she 
was standing by the wall with her back to the wind, 
trj’ing to wrap up the child, and she has nothing to 
wrap it up in. The w'oman was dressed in shabby 
summer clothes : and from behind the frame, Avdy^itch 
hears the child crying, and the woman trying to pacify 
it ; but she is not able to pacify it. Avdy^itch got up, 
went to the door, ascended the steps, and cried, 
“Hey! my good woman !” ^ The woman heard him 
and turned around. 

“ Why are you standing in the cold with the child? 
Come into my room, where it is warm : 3'ou can man- 
age it better. Right in this way ! ” 

» Khozy^in, 2 [Jncait8aah< 


32 WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO. 

The woman was astonished. She sees an old, old 
man in an apron, with spectacles on his nose, calling 
her to him. She followed him. They descended the 
steps, entered the room : the old man led the woman to 
his bed. 

“ There,” says he, “sit down, my good woman, 
nearer to the stove: you can get warm, and nurse the 
child.” 

“ I have no milk for him. I myself have not eaten 
anything since morning,” said the woman ; but, never- 
theless, she took the child to her breast. 

Avdyeitch shook his head, went to the table, brought 
out the bread and a dish, opened the oven-door, poured 
into the dish some cabbage-soup, took out the pot with 
the gruel, but it was not done yet ; so he filled the dish 
with shchi only, and put it on the table. He got the 
bread, took the towel down from the hook, and put it 
upon the table. 

“ Sit down,” he says, “ and cat, my good woman ; 
and I will mind the little one. You see, I once had 
children of my own : I know how to handle them.” 

The woman crossed herself, sat down at ths table, 
and began to eat ; while Avdyeitch took a seat on the bed 
near the infant. Avd^^eitch kept smacking and smack- 
ing to it with his lips ; but it was a poor kind of smack- 
ing, for he had no teeth. The little one still cries. 
And it occurred to Avdyeitch to threaten the little one 
with his finger : he waves, waves his finger right before 
the child’s mouth, and hastily withdraws it. He does 
not put it to its mouth, because his finger is black, and 
soiled with wax. And the little one looked at his 
finger, and became quiet : then it began to smile, and 
Avdyeitch also was glad. While the woman is eating, 
she tells who she is, and whither she was going. 


WHERE LOVE JS, THERE GOD IS ALSO, 33 

“I,” says she, “am a soldier’s wife. It is now 
seven months since they sent m 3 ' husband away off, 
and no tidings. I lived out as cook ; the bab}^ was 
born ; no one cared to keep me with a child. This is 
the third month that 1 have been struggling along with- 
out a place. I ate up all I had. I wanted to engage 
as a wet-nurse — no one would take me — I am too 
thin, they say. 1 have just been to the merchant’s 
wife, where lives our bdbotchka,^ and so they promised 
to take us in. 1 thought this was the end of it. But 
she told me to come next week. And she lives a long 
wa}' off. I got tired out ; and it tired him, too, mv 
heart’s darling. Fortunately, our landlady takes pity 
on us for the sake of Christ, and gives us a room, else 
1 don’t know how I should manage to get along.’’ 

Avdy4itch sighed, and said, “Haven’t 3 'ou any warm 
clothes ? ’ ’ 

“ Now is the time, friend, to wear warm clothes ; but 
yesterday I pawmed my last shawl for a tweut 3 ^-kopek 
piece.” 

The woman came to the bed, and took the child ; and 
Avd 3 "eitch rose, went to the little wall, and succeeded 
ill finding an old coat. 

“ Na ! ” says he : “ it is a poor thing, yet you may 
turn it to some use.” 

The woman looked at the coat, looked at the old 
man ; she took the coat, and burst into tears : and Avd- 
y 4 itch turned away his head ; crawling under the bed, 
he pushed out a little trunk, rummaged in it, and sat 
down again opposite the w'oman. 

And the woman said, “May Christ bless you, 
dushka!^ He must have sent me himself to 3 'our 


^ Little grandmother. 

* Dvagriveunui, silver, worth sisteen cents. » Little grandfather. 


34 WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO. 


window. My little child would have frozen to death. 
When I started out, it was warm, but now it is terribly 
cold. And he. Bdtiushka, led 3’ou to look through the 
window, and take pity on me, an unfortunate.” 

Avdyeitch smiled, and said, “ Indeed, he did that! 
1 have been looking through the window, my good 
woman, not without cause.” And Martuiu told the 
soldier’s wife his dream, and how he heard the voice, — 
how the Lord promised to come and see him that day. 

“ All things are possible,” said the woman. She 
rose, put on the coat, wrapped up her little child in it; 
and, as she started to take leave, she thanked Avd- 
y 4 itch again. 

“ Take this, for Christ’s sake,” said Avdyeitch, giv- 
ing her a twent3'-kopek piece : “ redeem ^mur shawl.” 
She made the sign of the cross. Avdyeitch made the 
sign of the cross, and went with her to the door. 

The woman left. Avdyeitch ate some shchi, washed 
some dishes, and sat down again to work. While he 
wmrks he still remembers the window : when the window 
grew darker, he immediately looked out to see who was 
passing by. Both acquaintances and strangers passed 
by, and there was nothing out of the ordinary. 

But here Avdyeitch sees that an old apple-woman 
has stopped right in front of his window'. She carries 
a basket with apples. Only a few w'ere left, as she had 
nearly sold them all out ; and over her shoulder she had 
a bag full of chips. She must have gathered them up 
in some new building, and was on her way home. One 
could see that the bag was heavy on her shoulder : she 
w’anted to shift it to tne other shoulder. So she low- 
ered the bag upon the sidew'alk, stood the basket with 
the apples on a little post, and began to shake down 
the splinters in the bag. And w'hile she w'as shaking 


WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO. 


her bag, a little boy in a torn cap came along, picked 
up an apple from the basket, and was about to make 
his escape ; but the old woman noticed it, turned around, 
and caught the youngster by his sleeve. The little 
boy began to struggle, tried to tear himself away ; but 
the old woman grasped him with both hands, knocked 
off his cap, and caught him by the hair. 

The little boy is screaming, the old woman is scold- 
ing. Avdyeitch lost no time in putting away his awl ; 
he threw it upon the floor, sprang to the door, — he 
even stumbled on the stairs, and dropped his eye- 
glasses, — and rushed out into the street. 

The old woman is pulling the 3’oungster by his hair, 
and is scolding, and threatening to take him to the 
policeman ; the youngster defends himself, and denies 
the ( harge. “ I did not take it,” he sa3’s : “ what are 
you licking me for? let me go ! ” Avd^^eitch tried to 
separate them. He took the boy by his arm, and 
says, — 

“Let him go, bdbushka ; forgive him, for Christ’s 
sake.” 

“ I will forgive him so that he won’t forget till the 
new broom grows. I am going to take the little villain 
to the police.” 

Avdyeitch began to entreat the old woman : — 

“Let him go, bdbushka,” he said: “he will never 
do it again. Let him go, for Christ’s sake.” 

The old woman let him loose : the boy tried to run, 
but Avdyditch kept him back. 

“Ask the bdbushka’s forgiveness,” he said, “and 
don’t you ever do it again : I saw you taking the apple.” 

With tears in his eyes, the boy began to ask for- 
giveness. 

“ Nu ! that’s right ; and now, here’s an apple for 


oG WHERE LOVE JS, THERE GOD IS ALSO. 

you.” Avdyeitch got an apple from the basket, and 
gave it to the boy. “ I will pay you for it, babushka,” 
he said to the old woman. 

“You ruin them that wa}', the good-for-nothings,” 
said the old woman. “ He ought to be treated so that 
he would remember it for a whole week.” 

“Eh, babushka, babushka,” said Ardyeitch, “that 
is right according to our judgment, but not according 
to God’s. If he is to be whipped for an apple, then 
what do we deserve for our sins? ” 

The old woman was silent. 

Avdyeitch told her the parable of the khozydi’n who 
forgave a debtor all that he owed him, and how the 
debtor went and began to choke one who owed him. 

The old woman listened, and the bo}" stood listening. 

“God has commanded us to forgive,” said Avd- 
3'^itch, “ else we, too, may not be forgiven. All should 
be forgiven, and the thoughtless especially.” 

The old woman shook her head, and sighed. 

“ That’s so,” said she ; “ but the trouble is, chat they 
are very much spoiled.” 

“Then, we, who are older, must teach them,” said 
Avdyeitch. 

“ That’s just what I saj^” remarked the old woman. 
“ I myself had seven of them, — only one daughter is 
left.” And the old woman began to relate where and 
how she lived with her daughter, and how many grand- 
children she had. “Here,” she says, “my strength 
is only so-so, and yet I have to work. I pity the 
youngsters — my grandchildren — how nice they are ! 
No one gives me such a welcome as they do. Aksintka 
won’t go to any one but me. (Bdbnshka, dear bd- 
bushka, loveliest ”) — and the old woman grew quite 
sentimental. 


WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO. 


37 


“ Of course, it is a childish trick. God be with 
him,” said she, pointing to the boy. 

The woman was just about to lift the bag upon her 
shoulder, when the boy ran up, and says, “ Let me 
carry it, babushka : it is on my way.” 

The old woman nodded her head, and put the bag 
on the boy’s back. 

Side by side they both passed along the street. And 
the old woman even forgot to ask Avd 3 Aitch to pay for 
the apple. 

Avdy^itch stood motionless, and kept gazing after 
them ; and he heard them talking all the time as they 
walked awa 3 ^ After Avdyeiteh saw them disappear, he 
returned to his room ; he found his eye-glasses on the 
stairs, — they were not broken ; he picked up his awl, 
and sat down to work again. 

After working a little while, it grew darker, so that 
he could not see to sew : he saw the lamplighter pass- 
ing by to light the street-lamps. 

‘‘It must be time to make a light,” he thought to 
himself ; so he fixed his little lamp, hung it up, and 
betook himself again to work. He had one boot already 
finished ; he turned it around, looked at it : “ Welldone.” 
lie put away his tools, swept off the cuttings, cleared 
off the bristles and ends, took the lamp, put it on the 
table, and took down the Gospels from the shelf. He 
intended to open the book at the very place where he 
had yesterday put a piece of leather as a mark, but it 
happened to open at another place ; and the moment 
Avd3"(5itch opened the Testament, he recollected his 
last night’s dream. And as soon as he remembered 
it, it seemed as though he heard some one stepping 
about behind him. Avdy6itch looked around, and sees 
— there, in the dark corner, it seemed as though 


38 WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO. 

people were standing : he was at a loss to know who 
they were. And a voice whispered in his ear, — 

“ Martuin — ah, Martuin ! did you not recognize 
me?” 

“ Who? ” uttered Ardy^itch. 

“ Me,” repeated the voice. “ It’s T ; ” and Step^n- 
uitcli stepped forth from the dark corner ; he smiled, 
and like a little cloud faded away, and soon vanished. 

“And this is I,” said the voice. From the dark 
corner stepped forth the woman with her child : the 
woman smiled, the child laughed, and they also van- 
ished. 

“And this is I,” continued the voice; both the 
old woman and the boy with the apple stepped forward ; 
both smiled and vanished. 

Avdyeitch’s soul rejoiced : he crossed himself, put on 
liis eye-glasses, and began to read the Evangelists where 
it happened to open. On the upper part of the page 
he read, — 

“For I was an hiingred, and ye gave me meat: I 
was thirsty, and ye gave me drink : 1 was a stranger, 
and 3'e took me in.” . . . 

And on the lower part of the page he read this : — 

“ Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least 
of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me ” (St. 
Matthew, chap. xxv.). 

And Avdycitch understood that his dream did not 
deceive him ; that the Saviour really called upon him 
that day, and that he really received him. 


A CANDLE. 


“ Te have heard that it hath been said, An eye for an eye, and a tooth for 
. a tooth ; 

But I say unto you, That ye resist not evil : but whosoever shall smite 
thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also.” — Matt. v. 38, 39. 

This affair took place in the days when there weie 
masters. There used to be all kinds of masters. There 
were those who remembered God, and that they must 
die, and took pity on people ; and there were dogs, — 
excuse the use of the term. But there was nothino: 
worse than the overseers,^ who had risen from serfdom. 
As it were, out of the mud, the}" became princes ! And 
they made life worse than any thing else. 

There happened to be such a prikdshchik on a pro- 
prietor’s estate. The peasants worked their share for 
the estate. There was plenty of land, and the land 
w'as good — there was water, and meadows, and wood- 
land. There was enough, and to spare, for barin and 
muzhiks ; but the barin made one of his house-serfs 
from another estate the prikashchik. 

The prikdshchik took the power on his hands, and 
sat upon the necks of the muzhiks. He himself had 
a family, — a wife, and two married daughters, — and 
he had made money. He might easily have lived with- 
out sin ; but he was a covetous man, and fell into sin. 


1 Nachaluiks. 


.30 


40 


A CANDLE. 


He began to compel the muzhiks to work on thebarin’s 
estate more than their regular day’s work. He started 
a brick-3’ard : he wore out all the peasants, both babas 
and muzhiks, and sold the bricks. 

The muzhiks went to complain to the proprietor at 
Moscow, but they had no success. He dismissed the 
muzhiks without any thing, and did not curb the pri- 
kashchik’s power. The prikashchik learned that the 
muzhiks had been to complain of him, and he began to 
vent his spite. The muzhiks were worse off than be- 
fore. There happened to be false men among the muz- 
hiks, who used to cany stories about each other. 
And all the people were in a ferment, and the prikash- 
chik kept growing worse and worse. 

As time went on, the prikashchik became so bad that 
the people came to fear him worse than a terrible wild 
beast. When he passed through the village, all would 
keep out of his way as from a wolf, hiding wherever 
the}' could, so as to keep away from his eyes. The 
prikashchik saw it ; and the fact'that they were afraid 
of him, made him still more angiy. He persecuted the 
people, both by blows and hard work ; and the muzhiks 
suffered terribly at his hands. 

There were times when such evil-doers were put out 
of the way, and the muzhiks began to plan some such 
w'ay of escape. They would meet in some retired spot, 
and the boldest among them v»^ould say, — 

“ Must we go on suffering forever from our persecu- 
tor? — We are lost anyhow — to kill such a man is no 
sin.” 

The muzhiks were one time gathered in the forest : 
it was before Holy Week. The prikdshchik had sent 
them out to clear up the proprietor’s forest. They 
gathered at dinner, and began to talk. 


A CANDLE. 


41 


“How can we live now?” they said. “He will 
destroy us root and branch. He tortures us with work : 
neither we nor the babas have any rest day or night 
any more. The least thing not to his mind, and he 
finds fault, he lashes us. Semyon died under his whip, 
Anisim was tortured in the stocks. What else can we 
expect? He will come here this evening; he will be 
making trouble again ; let’s just pull him off from his 
horse, give him a blow with the axe, and that’ll be the 
end of it. We’ll bury him somewhere like a dog, and 
there’ll be no clew. Onlj’ one condition : we must all 
stand together — not peach.” 

Thus spoke Vasili Minaef. He was more than all 
the rest incensed against the prikdshchik, who had 
whipped him every week, robbed him of his wife, tak- 
ing her as his cook. 

Thus talked the muzhiks : in the evening the pri- 
kdshchik came ; he was on horseback : as soon as he 
came, he began to find fault with their work. He dis- 
covered a little linden in the pile. 

“I,” says he, “ did not tell j’ou to cut the lindens. 
Who cut it down? Confess, or I’ll lash you all ! ” 

He began to inquire in whose pile the linden was. 
They told him it was Sidor’s. The prikdshchik 
beat Sidor’s face till it bled. Then he lashed Vasili 
Tatar fashion because his pile was small : then he 
started home. 

In the evening the muzhiks met again, and Vasili 
was the spokesman. 

“ Ekh ! What people you are ! Not men, but spar- 
rows 1 ‘ We’ll stand together, we’ll stand together! ’ 

but when it comes to the point, all rush under the pent- 
roof. Thus sparrows try to fight a hawk : ‘ Don’t 
peach, don’t peach, we’ll stand together I ’ But when 


42 


A CANDLE. 


he swooped down on ns, all scattered in the grass ! 
And so the hawk caught the one he wanted, carried 
it off. The sparrows hopped out : ‘ Cheeveek ! cheeveek ! ’ 
There is one missing! ‘Who is gone?’ Vdnka, eh! 
That’s his road, let him go ! He deserves it. The 
same way witli you. If you ain’t going to peach, then 
don’t peach. When he seized Sidor, you should have 
clubbed together, and put an end to him. But still it 
is, ‘ Don’t peach, don’t peach ! we’ll stand together! ’ 
But when he swooped down, all flew into the bushes ! ” 

Thus they spoke more and more often, and at last 
the muzhiks determined to do away with the prikdsh- 
chik. On Good Friday the prikdshchik announced to 
the muzhiks that they must be ready to plough for the 
barin at Easter, so as to sow the oats. This seemed to 
the muzhiks an insult; and on Good Frida}" they gath- 
ered at Vasili’s, in the back-yard, and began to talk 
again. 

“Since he has forgotten God,’’ say they, “and 
wants to do such things, we must really kill him. We 
are ruined anyway.” 

Piotr Mikh3^eef also came with them. Piotr Mi- 
khyeef was a peace-loving muzhik, and did not agree 
with the muzhiks. Mikhyeef came, heard their talk, 
and says, — 

“You are meditating a great sin, brethren. To 
destroy a soul is a great crime. To destroy another 
man’s soul is easy, but how about your own? He does 
wrong : it is bad for him. Brethren, we must bear it.” 

Vasili was angry at these words. “ He keeps repeat- 
ing the same thing over and over,” says he: “‘It’s 
a sin to kill a man ! You know it is a sin to kill such a 
man,’ sa3"s he. It is a sin to kill a good man, but even 
God has commanded to kill such a dog. You must 


A CANDLE. 


43 


kill a mad dog, out of pity for men ; and not to kill 
him, would be a greater sin. Why does he ruin peo- 
ple ? But though we should suffer for it, we ought to do 
it for others. People will thank us. And to get rid of 
such spittle ! He is ruining everybody. You talk non- 
sense, Mikhy^itch. Why, it would be less of a sin than 
for all to go to work on Easter Sunday. You yourself 
would not go.” 

And Mikhyeitch replied, — 

“Why not go?” he asked. “They will send us, 
and I am going to plough. Not for myself. But 
God knows whose sin it is, only we should not forget 
him. I, brethren,” says he, “don’t speak my own 
thoughts. If we had been commanded to do evil for 
evil, there would have been a law from God to that 
effect ; but just the opposite is commanded us. You 
will do evil, but it will come back upon you. It is wicked 
to kill a man. His blood will stick in your soul. 
Kill a man — you stain your own soul with blood. 
You think, ‘I have killed a bad man.’ You think, 
‘I have destroyed a pest.’ On the contrary, look, 
you have been led into doing a much worse sin 
to yourself. Yield to fate, and fate will yield to 
you.” 

And so the muzhiks did not agree : they were divided 
by their thoughts. Some have the same opinion as 
Vasilyef: others coincide with the views of Piotr, that 
they should not attempt the sin, but bear it. 

The muzhiks were celebrating the first of the holi- 
days, Sunday. At evening comes the village elder,^ 
with police from the master’s country-seat, and they 
say, — 

^‘Mikhail Semyonovitch, the overseer,^ has given 


1 Stdrosta. 


* Prikdshchik. 


44 


A CANDLE. 


orders that all the muzhiks prepare on the morrow to 
plough in the oat- field. 

The village elder went round with the poliee through 
the village, gave the orders for all to go out and plough 
the next day, calling to this one on the river, this one 
from the high-road. The muzhiks wept, but dared not 
disobey. In the morning they came with their ploughs,^ 
began to plough. 

At church the early morning-mass is going on, the 
people everywhere are celebrating the festival : our 
muzhiks are ploughing ! 

Mikhail Semyonovitch, the overseer, woke up not 
very early, and rode over to the farm : his people were 
dressed, and had on their finery — his wife, his widowed 
daughter (she had come for the festival) ; a workman 
harnessed for them the little telyega ; they went olf to 
mass ; they returned ; the serving-woman put on the 
samovar ; Mikhail Semyonovitch came in ; they began 
their tea-drinking. 

After Mikhail Semyonovitch had drunk enough tea, 
he lighted his pipe, called the village elder. 

“Well, then,^ did you set the muzhiks to plough- 
ing?” 

“ I did, Mikhail Semyonovitch.” 

‘ ‘ What ! did all go ? ” 

“ All went : I myself set them at it.” 

“ Setting them at work is all very well, but are they 
ploughing? Go out and look, and tell them that I am 
coming after dinner to see if they have been ploughing a 
desydtiu to every two ploughs, and ploughing it well, 
besides. If I find any mistake, I sha’n’t hear to any 
festival.” 

“ All right.” 


Sokhi. 


* Nu tchio inoL 


A CANDLE. 


45 


And the village elder had started, but Mikhail 
Semyonovitch called him back : he hesitates, wants to 
say something, but knows not how. 

He hesitated and hesitated, and now he says, — 

“ Now, here, I want you to listen to what those vil- 
lains are saying about me. Who is grumbling, and 
what he says, — tell me all about it. I know those 
villains ; they don’t like to work ; unless I punch ’em 
in the side, they would be wandering about. They 
like to gormandize and have holidays, but they don’t 
think that 3'ou’ll put off the ploughing. Now, then, you 
just listen to their talk, what any one says, and just 
report it to me. I must know about it. Go along and 
notice, aud tell me all, and don’t hide any thing.” 

The village elder turned round, went off, mounted 
his horse, and rode off to the muzhiks iu the 
field. 

The overseer’s wife had heard her husband’s talk 
with the village elder, and came to her husband, and 
began to question him. The prikdshchitsa was a peace- 
loving woman, and her lieari was tender. Where it 
was possible, she restrained her husband, aud stood up 
'for the muzhiks. 

She came to her husband, and began to question 
him : — 

My dear Mishenka,” ^ says she, “ on the great day, 
the festival of the Lord, don’t commit a sin ; for Christ’s 
sake, let the muzhiks off ! ” 

Mikhail Semyonovitch did not take his wife’s words ; 
he only began to laugh at her. 

“ It’s a long time, isn’t it,” says he, “ since you had 
a little taste of the whip, that you dare mix yourself 
up with otlier people’s affairs? ” 


1 Diminutive of Mikhail. 


46 


A CANDLE. 


“ Mishenka, my love, I had a bad dream about you ; 
heed me ; let the muzhiks off ! ” 

“ And I, too, have something to say,” says he': “ if 
3’ou give me much of your sauce, the whip will bring 
you to reason. Look out ! ” Semyonovitch got angry, 
thrust his lighted pipe into his wife’s teeth, pushed her 
away, ordered dinner brought him. 

Mikhail Semyonovitch ate some cold meat, a pirog, 
cabbage-soup with pork, roast shoat, vermicelli cooked 
in milk ; he drank some cherry-wine, tasted a sweet 
pie, called up the cook, set her to performing some 
songs ; and he himself took his guitar, and began to play 
the accompaniments. 

Mikhail Semyonovitch is sitting in a gay frame of 
mind, belches, thrums on the strings, and jests with 
the cook. 

The village elder came in, bowed low, and began to 
report what he had seen in the field. 

“ Well, then,^ are they ploughing? Are they finish- 
ing their stint? ” 

“They have already done more than half of the 
ploughing.” 

“ None left undone? ” 

“ I did not see any ; they plough very well ; they are 
afraid.” 

“ Well, does the ground turn up well? ” 

“ The ground turns up easily, as the poppy has been 
scattered.” 

The overseer wms silent. 

“Well, and what do they say about me? do they 
revile me? ” 

The stdrosta began to stammer, but Mikhail Sem- 
yonovitch bade him tell the whole truth. “ Tell me all : 


* Nu tchto. 


A CANDLE. 


47 


you won’t be speaking your own words, ])iit somebody 
else’s. If you tell the truth, I will reward you ; but if 
you deceive me, look out! I will pickle you! Yay, 
Kdtrusha, give him a glass of vodka to keep his courage 
up.” 

The cook came, offered him the brandy. The vil- 
lage elder thanked her, drank it up, wiped his lips, and 
began to speak : — 

“All the same,” thinks he, “ ’tisn’t my fault that 
they don’t praise him. 1 will tell the truth, since he 
tells me to.” And the stdrosta plucks up courage, and 
begins to speak : — 

“They grumble, Mikhail Semyonovitch, they grum- 
ble.” 

“ Yes ; but what do they say? Tell me.” 

“ They say just one thing : ‘ He does not believe in 
God.’ ” 

The prikdshchik sneered. 

“ Who says that? ” 

“They all say it. They say, ‘ He has sold himself 
to the Devil.’ ” 

The prikdshchik laughs. 

“ That,” says he, “ is excellent: now tell me indi- 
vidually who says that. Does Vdska say so? ” 

The stdrosta did not want to tell on his own people, 
but there had been a quarrel between Vasili and the 
stdrosta for a long time. 

“Vasili,” says he, “scolds worse than any one 
else.” 

“ Yes : what does he say? Speak it out.” 

“ But it is terrible to tell — even to tell it. He says, 

‘ You won’t escape a violent death.’ ” 

“ Ay ! the brave fellow ! I suppose he’s dawdling 
round! He won’t kill me — his hands won’t reach 


48 


A CANDLE. 


me! Just wait!” says he, “Vjiska! we’ll be quits 
with you ! Now, how about Tishka? That dog also, 
I suppose? ” 

“ Yes : they all speak bad.” 

“ Y'es ; but what do they say? ” 

“ Well, they say something abominable.” 

“ What was abominable? Don’t be afraid to tell.” 

“ Well,^ they say that your belly will break open, 
and 3’our bowels gush out.” 

Mikhail Semyonovitch was delighted : he burst into a 
horse-laugh. 

“We will see whose does first! Who sa^^s that? 
Tishka?” 

“No one said any thing good : all growl, all are full 
of threats.” 

“ Well,^ but how about P<^trushka IMikhy^ef? What 
does he say ? The gobbler ! he growls also, I sup- 
pose ? ’ ’ 

“ No, Mikhailo Semyonovitch. Pyotra does not com- 
plain.” 

‘ ‘ What does he ? ” 

“He is the only one of all the muzhiks that says 
nothing. lie is a clever muzhik. I wondered at him, 
Mikhail Semyonovitch. ’ ’ 

“But why?” 

“ At what he did ; and all the muzhiks wondered at 
him.” 

“ But what did he do? ” 

“Yes, it was very queer. I tried to get near him. 
He is ploughing on the desydtin on Turkin height. I 
tried to get near him. I hear him singing something : 
he is carrying something gingerly, carefully ; and on 
his plough, between the handles, something is shining.’^ 


» Da. 


2 ITu. 


A CANDLE. 


40 


“ Well?’^ 

“It is exactly like a little fire, shining. I come 
nearer ; I look ; a little wax candle — cost five kopeks 
— is stuck on to the cross-bar, and is burning ; and the 
wind doesn’t blow it out. And he, in his clean shirt, 
goes up and down, ploughing, and singing Sunday 
songs. And his cuffs are turned up, and he shakes, 
and the candle doesn’t go out. He shook before me, 
turned the club, lifted the plough, and all the time the 
candle burns, and doesn’t go out.” 

‘ ‘ And what did he say ? ’ ’ 

“ AYell,^ he didn’t say any thing, only looked at me, 
crossed himself, and began to sing again.” 

“ But what did you say to him? ” 

“I did not speak: but the muzhiks came up, and 
they began to make sport of him ; here they say, 
‘ Mikhyeitch, in an age of sin, 3*ou won’t get off by 
praying because you ploughed on Sunday.’ ” 

“ What did he say?” 

“ He only said, ‘ On earth, peace, good will to men.’ 
Again he took hold of the plough, started up the horse, 
and sang in a low voice ; but the candle burns, and 
doesn’t go out.” 

The overseer ceased to make ridicule, laid down the 
guitar, hung his head, and fell into thought. 

He kept sitting there, and sitting there ; then he sent 
out the cook and the starosta, and went to the curtain ; 
lay down on the bed, and began to sigh, began to 
groan, as though a cart-load of sheaves lay on him. 
His wife came to him, began to talk with him : he did 
not reply to her. Only he said, — 

“ He has conquered me. Now it’s my turn.” 

His wife began to say to him, “Yes, go and let 


1 Da. 


50 


A CANDLE. 


them off. Perhaps there’s no harm. No matter what 
you have done, don’t be afraid ; for what is there to 
be afraid of now ? ” 

“I am lost,” he said: “he has conquered me;” 
and he kept repeating, “ He has conquered, con- 
quered ! ’ ’ 

His wife shouted to him, — 

“ Go ahead ! let the muzhiks go, then it will be all 
right. Go ahead, 1 will saddle the horse.” 

She got out the horse : and the prikdshchitsa urged 
her husband to go out to the field, and let the muzhiks 

go. 

Mikhail Semyonovitch mounted his horse, and rode 
out to the field. He came to the neighborhood ; a baba 
opened the gate for him ; he rode into the village. As 
soon as the people saw the prikashchik, all the people 
hid themselves from him, one in a door, another in a 
corner, another in a garden. 

The prikdshchik rode through the whole village : he 
came to other horse-gates. The gates were shut, and 
he could not open them on horse-back. He shouted, 
the prikdshchik shouted for some one to open for him, 
but no one came. Getting down from his horse, be 
opened the gate himself, and tried to mount again. He 
lifted his foot to the stirrup, tried to swing himself 
into the saddle ; but the horse took fright at a pig, 
sprang against the paling : and the man w'as heav}’ ; he 
could not spring into the saddle, and was thrown on his 
belly against the paling. There was only one sharp 
pole that stood out above the fence, and this was higher 
than the others. And he fell on his bell}’ straight on 
this pole. And it ripped open his belly, and he fell on 
the ground. 

The muzhiks came hurrying from the [iloughing ; they 

it- 

t 


A CANDLE. 


51 


were sa3’ing sharp things : as their horses turn into the 
gate, the nauzhiks see that Mikhail Semyonovitch is 
lying on his back, his arms stretched out, and his eyes 
fixed, and his insides gushed out over the ground, and 
his blood making a pool — the earth would not drink 
it. 

The muzhiks were frightened ; they drive the horses : 
only Piotr Mikhy^itch dismounts, goes to the overseer, 
sees that he is dead, closes his e3’es, harnesses the 
telyega, helps the dead man’s son to put him in a box, 
and carries him to the manor-house. 

The barin learned about all these things, and forgave 
the muzhiks their tax. 

And the muzhiks learned that God’s power works 
not by sin, but by goodness. 


THE TWO PILGRIMS; 

OR, 

LOVE AND GOOD DEEDS. 


I. 


“ The woman saith unto him, Sir, I perceive that thou art a prophet. 

Our fathers worshipped in this mountain; and ye say, that in Jerusalem 
Is the place where men ought to worship. 

Jesus saith unto her, W'oman, believe me, the hour cometh, when ye shall 
neither in this mountain, nor yet at Jerusalem, worship the Father. 

Ye worship ye know not what ; we know what we worship : for salvation 
is of the Jews. 

But the hour cometh, and now is, when the true worshippers shall 
worship the Father in spirit and in truth: for the Father secketh such to 
worship him.” — John iv. 19-23. 


Two old men resolved to worship God in ancient 
Jerusalem. One was a rich muzhik; his name was 
Yefim Tardsiiitch Shevelef : the other was not a rich 
man, — Yelis^i Bodrof. 

Yefim was a sedate muzhik ; did not drink vodka, 
nor smoke tobacco, nor take snuff. All his life Ions 
he had never used a bad word, and he was a strict and 
upright man. Two terms Yefim had served as stdr- 
osta, and had come out without a deficit.^ 

His family was large, — two sons and a married grand- 
son, — and all lived together. As for himself, he was 
hale, long-bearded, erect, and, tliough he was in his 
seventh decade, his beard was only begiuniiig to grow 
gray. 

’ The Htdroata, or starshina, is president of the village council, and held 
accountable for the taxes levied on the mir, or commune. 


THE TWO n LG RIMS. 


53 


Yelis^i’ was a little old man, neither rich nor poor : 
in former times he had gone about doing jobs in car- 
pentry ; but now, as he grew old, he began to stay at 
home, and took to raising bees. One of his sons had 
gone away to work, the other was at home. Yelisei 
was a good-natured and jolly man. He used to drink 
vodka, and take snuff, and he liked to sing songs ; but 
he was a peaceable man, and lived amicably with his 
family and his neighbors. As to his person, Yelis4‘i 
was a short, darkish little muzhik, with a curly beard ; 
and like his name-saint, Elisha the prophet, he was 
entirely bald. 

The old men had long ago promised and agreed to 
go together, but Tarasuitch had never found the lei- 
sure : his engagements had never come to an end. As 
soon as one was through with, another began : first 
the grandson got married ; then they expected the 
3 ’ounger son from the army ; and then, again, he 
planned to build a new izbd. 

One festival day the old men met, and were sitting in 
the sun. 

“Well,” says Yelis6i, “when shall we set out, and 
fulfil our promise ? ” 

Yefim knit his brow. 

“We must wait a while,” says he. “This year 
it’ll come hard for me. I am engaged in building this 
izba. I counted on spending about a hundred rubles ; 
but I’m already on the third, and it isn’t finished 
yet. You see, that’ll take till summer. In the sum- 
mer, if God grants, we will go without let or hinder- 
ance.” 

“According to my idea,” says Yelisei, “ we ought 
not to put it off : we ought to go to-day. It’s the very 
time — spring.” 


54 


THE TWO PILGRIMS. 


“ Time, certainly : but this work is begun ; how can I 
leave it? ” 

“Haven’t you any one? Your son will attend to 
it.” 

“How attend to it? My eldest son is not to be 
trusted — he gets drunk. ’ ’ 

“ We shall die, old friend : they’ll have to live with- 
out us. Your son must learn.” 

“ That’s so ; but I should like, with my own eyes, to 
see this job finished ! ” 

“Ah! my dear man, you will never get all you 
want done. Only the other day at my house, the babas 
were cleaning house, fixing up for Piaster. And both 
are necessary, but you’d never get through. And my 
oldest daughter-in-law, a sensible baba, says, ‘ Thank 
the Lord,’ says she, ‘ Easter is coming : it doesn’t wait 
for us, else,’ says she, ‘ they would never get done, 
never finish it all.’ ” 

Tarasuitch was lost in thought. 

“I have put a good deal of moue3%” saj^s he, “into 
this building ; and we can’t go on this journey with 
empty hands. It won’t take less than one hundred 
rubles.” 

Yelisei laughed out, — 

“ Don’t make a mistake, old friend,” saj^s he : “ you 
have ten times as much property as I have. And you 
talk about money I Only say when shall we go ? I 
haven’t any thing, but I’ll get some.” 

Tardsuitch also smiled. “How rich 3^011 seem!” 
says he ; “ but where will you get it? ” 

“Well, I’ll scrape some up at home — that’ll be 
something: and for the rest, — I’ll let my neighbor have 
ten of my hives. He has been after them for a long 
time.” 


THE TWO PILGRIMS, 


55 


“ This is going to be a good swarming-year : you’ll 
regret it.” 

Regret it? No, old friend. I never regretted any 
thing in my life except my sins. There is nothing 
more precious than the soul ! ” 

“ That’s so. But it’s not pleasant when things 
aren’t right at home.” 

“ But how will it be with us if our souls are not 
right? Then it will be worse. But we have made a 
vow — let us go ! I beg of you, let us go ! ” 


56 


THE TWO PILGRIMS. 


II. 


And Yelisei talked over his friend. Yefim thought 
about it, and thought about it ; and in the morning he 
came to Yelisei: “Well, then, let us go,” says he. 
“ You are right. In death and in life, God rules. Since 
we are alive, and have strength, we must go.” 

At the end of a week the old men had made their 
preparations. 

Tardsuitch had money in the house. He took one 
hundred rubles for his journey : two hundred he left for 
the old woman. 

Yelisei also was read3\ He sold his neighbor the ten 
bee-hives. And the bees that would swarm from the 
ten hives, also he sold to the neighbor. He received, 
all told, seventy rubles. The thirty rubles remaining 
in the house, he took from its hiding-place. The old 
woman gave him all that she had saved up against her 
funeral : the daughter-in-law gave hers. 

Yefim Tardsnitch gave all his commands to his old- 
est son, — what meadow^s to rent out, and where to put 
manure, and how to finish and roof in the izbd. He 
thought about every thing, he fore-ordered every thing. 

But Yelisei only directed his old woman to hive the 
young swarms of bees that he had sold, and give 
them to his neighbor without any trickery ; but about 
household affairs, he did not have any thing to say : “ If 
any thing comes up, let them attend to it. You people 
at home do as you think best.” 


THE TWO PILGRIMS 


57 


The old men were now ready. The wives baked a 
lot of flat-cakes,^ sewed some bags, cut new Icg-wrap- 
pers:^ they put on new boots, took some extra bast- 
shoes and set forth. The folks kept them 

company to the common pasture, wished them good-by, 
and the old men set out on their journey. 

Yelisei' set out in good spirits ; and as soon as he left 
tlje village, he forgot all about his cares. His only 
thoughts were how to please his companion, how not to 
say a single churlish word to any one, and how to go in 
peace and love to the (Holy) Places and return home. 
Yelis(^i walks along the road, and all the time he either 
whispers a prayer, or calls to memory some saint’s life 
wdiich he knows. And if he meets any one on the 
road, or comes to any halting-place, he makes him- 
self useful and as agreeable as possible to eveiy one, 
and even says a word in God’s service. He goes his 
way rejoicing. One thing Y'elisei cannot do. He in- 
tended to give up snuff-taking, and he left his snuff- 
box ; but it was melanchol}'. A man on the road gave 
him some. And now and again he drops behind his 
companion, so as not to lead him into temptation, and 
takes a pinch of snuff. 

Yefim Tardsuitch also gets along well — sturdily: 
he does nothing wicked, and he says nothing churlish, 
but he is not easy in his mind. He cannot get out of 
his mind his household affairs. He keeps thinking 
of what is doing at home. Had he forgotten to give 
his son some commands? and is his son doing as he 
was told ? If he sees any one by the road planting pota- 
toes, or spreading manure, he would think, “ Is my son 
doing what I told him ? ” He was almost ready to turn 
round and show him how, and even do it himself. 

1 LepyOHhki. 

2 Onutchi. Strips of cloth used by the muzhiks instead of stockings. 


58 


TUE TWO PILGRIMS. 


III. 

Five weeks the old men had been journeying ; their 
home-made lapti were worn out, and they had been 
obliged to buy new ones ; and they came to the land of 
the Top-Knots (Little Russia). From the time that 
they left home, they had paid for lodging and meals ; 
but now that they had come among the Top-Knots, the 
people began to vie with each other in giving them in- 
vitations. And they gave them shelter, and fed them, 
and would not take money from them, but even put 
bread, and sometimes flat-cakes, into their bags for 
the journey. Thus the old men journeyed nearly seven 
hundred (versts). They passed through this govern- 
ment, and came to a famine-stricken place. 

They received them kindly and took them in, and 
would not take pay for lodging ; but they could no 
longer feed them. And they did not always let them have 
bread ; and, again, it was not always to be obtained 
at all. The 3’ear before, so the people said, nothing 
had grown. Those w’ho were rich had been ruined, 
and forced to sell out ; those who lived in medium 
style had come down to nothing ; but the poor had 
either gone away altogether, or had come upon the 
commune,^ or had almost perished in their homes. All 
winter they had been living on husks and pig-weed. 

One time the old men put up at a little place ; they 
bought fifteen pounds of bread ; and, having spent the 


1 Mir. 


THE TWO PILGRIMS. 


50 


night, the}^ started off betimes, so as to get as far as 
possible before the heat of the day. They went ten 
versts, and reached a little river : they sat down, filled 
their cups with water, moistened the little loaves, and 
changed their shoes. They sat some time resting. 
Yelis4i got out his little snuff-horn. TarAsuitch shook 
his head at him. 

“ Why,” sa^’s he, “ don’t you throw away that nasty 
stuff?” 

Yelis4i wrung his hands. “ The sin is too strong for 
me,” says he : “what can you do? ” 

They got up, and went on their way. They went 
half a score of versts farther. They came to a great 
village : they went right through it. And already it 
had grown hot. Yelisei was dead with fatigue ; he 
wanted to rest, and have a drink : but TarAsuitch does 
not halt. Tardsuitch was the stronger in walking, and 
it was rather hard for Yelisdi to keep up with him. 

“I’d like a drink,” says he. 

“ All right. Get a drink. I don’t want any.” 

Yelisdi stopped. 

“ Don’t wait,” says he : “ I’m only going to run In 
for a minute here at this hut, and get a drink. I’ll 
overtake 3 ’ou in a jiffy.” 

“All right.” 

And Yefim Tardsuitch proceeded on his way alone, 
and Yelisei turned back to the hut. 

Yelisdi went up to the hut. The hut was small, and 
plastered with mud : below, it was black ; above, white. 
The clay was peeling off ; long, apparently, since it had 
been mended : and the roof in one place was broken 
through. The way to the hut led through the dvor. 
Yelisei went into the dvor, and sees, lying on a pile 
of earth, a thin, beardless man, in shirt and drawers 


CO 


THE TWO PILGRIMS. 


— in Little Russian fashion. The man evidently had 
lain down when it was cool, but the sun beat straight 
down upon him. And he lies there, and is not asleep. 
Yelisei shouted to him ; asked him for a drink. The 
man made no reply. 

“ Either he’s sick or he’s ugly,” thought Y"elis4i, and 
he went to the door. He hears children crying in the 
hut. Yelisei rapped with the ring: “Masters.”^ No 
repl}'." He rapped again on the door with his staff : 
“ Christians ! ” ^ 

No one moved. “Servants of God!” No one 
answers. Yelisei was about to proceed on his way, 
but he listens : some one seems to be groaning behind 
the door. 

“Can some misfortune have befallen these people? 
Must look and see.” 

And Yelisei went into the hut. 


1 Khosydeva. 


* KrttshcJacuuie; literally, Ye baptiaed! 


THE TWO PILGRIMS. 


G1 


IV. 


Yelisei turned the ring — it wasn’t locked. He 
opened the door, and passed through the little vesti- 
bule. The door to the hut stood open ; at the left 
was an oven ; straight ahead was the corner ; in the 
corner, the shrine, a table ; by the table, a bench ; on 
the bench, an old woman, in a single shirt, with dis- 
hevelled hair, is sitting, resting her head on the table. 
At her elbow an emaciated little boy, pale as wax, witli 
a distended belly, is tugging at the old woman’s sleeve, 
and screaming at the top of his voice, asking for some- 
thing. 

Yelis4i went into the hut. In the hut, the air was sti- 
fling ; he looks ; behind the oven, on a shelf, a woman 
is lying. She lies on her back, and does not look up ; 
only moans, and sometimes stretches out her leg, some- 
times draws it up again. And she throws herself from 
side to side, and the stench arising from her shows that 
she has been shamefully neglected. The old woman 
raised her head, and looked at the man. 

“ What do you want? ” says she. “ What do you 
want? We hain’t got nothing for you.” ^ 

Yelisei' understood what she said : he went up to her. 
“ I am a servant of God,” says he : “I come to get a 
drink.” 

“ Hain’t got any, hain’t got any. Hain’t got any 
thing to get it in. Go away ! ” 

1 She speaks in the staccato Malo Russian dialect : Chovo tobi treha? . . , 
Nyi ma, Cholovitche, 7 iitchovo! tobi for tibye; ma for mui; cholovitche 
for chelovytk (man). 


62 


THE TWO PILGRIMS. 


Yelis4i began to question her. “ Tell me, isn’t 
there any one of you well enough to take care of the 
woman? ” 

“ Hain’t got any one — the man in the dvor is dying, 
and we are here.” 

The boy had ceased crying when he saw the stranger ; 
but when the old woman spoke, he began to tug again 
at her sleeve: “Bread, granny, bread!” and began 
screaming again. 

Yelis^i was going to ask more questions of the old 
woman, when the muzhik came stumbling into the hut : 
he went along the wall, and was going to sit on the 
bench, but failed of it, and fell into the corner at the 
threshold. And he did not try to get up : he tried to 
speak. One word he speaks — then breaks off, is out 
of breath, speaks another: — 

“ Sick,” — says he, “ and starving. — Here — he — 
is — dying — starvation.” 

The muzhik indicated the boy with his head, and 
burst into tears. 

Yelisei shook off his sack from his shoulders, freed 
his arms, set the sack on the floor, then lifted it to the 
bench, and began to undo it. He undid it, took out 
bread, a knife, cut off a slice, gave it to the muzhik. 
The muzhik would not take it, but pointed to the boy 
and to the girl. “ Give it to them, please.” 

Yelis4i held it out to the boy. The malchik smelt 
the bread, stretched himself up, seized the slice with 
both hands, and buried his nose in the slice. A little 
girl crept out from behind the oven, and stared at the 
bread. Yelisei gave her some also. He cut off still 
another chunk, and gave it to the old woman. The old 
woman took it, tried to chew it. 


THE TWO PILGRIMS. 


03 


“ Would you bring some water? ” she said : “ their 
mouths are parched. I tried,” says she, ‘‘yesterday, 
or to-day, — I don’t remember which, — to get some. I 
fell, couldn’t get there ; and the bucket is there yet, 
unless some one has stolen it.” 

Yelisei asked where their well was. The old woman 
gave him the directions. Yelis4i went and found the 
bucket, brought water, gave the people some to drink. 

The children were still eating bread and water, and 
the old woman ate some too ; but the muzhik refused to 
eat. 

“ It makes me sick at my stomach.” His baba, who 
did not notice any thing at all, or come to herself, only 
tossed about on the loft. 

Yelis4i went to the village, bought at the shop some 
millet, salt, flour, butter, looked round for a hatchet. 
He split up some wood, — began to kindle up the oven. 
The little girl began to help him. Yelisei boiled some 
porridge and kasha, fed the people. 


THE TWO PILGRIMS. 


V. 


The muzhik ate a little, and the old woman ate ; but 
the little girl and the little boy licked the bowl clean, 
and laydown to sleep locked in each other’s arms. 

The muzhik and the old woman began to relate how 
all this had come upon them. 

“ We weren’t rich, even before this,” say they ; “ but 
when nothing grew, we had to give all we had for food 
last autumn. We parted with every thing : then we had 
to go begging among our neighbors and kind people. 
At first they gave to us, but then they sent us away. 
Some would have gladly given to us, but they had 
nothing. Yes, and we were ashamed to beg : w’e got 
in debt to every one, both for money and flour and 
bread. I tried to get work,” said the muzhik, “ but 
there was no work. People everywhere were wander- 
ing about to work for something to eat. You’d work 
one day, and you’d go about for two hunting for work. 
The old woman and the little girl had to go a long 
way off begging. Not much was given them : no one 
had any bread to spare. And so we lived, hoping we’d 
get along somehow till new crops came. But then 
they stopped giving at all, and then sickness came on. 
Things were just as bad as they could be. One day 
we had something to eat, but the next two nothing. 
AVe began to eat herbs. Yes, perhaps it was from 
eating herbs, or something of the sort, that my wife 
got sick. My wife became sick, and I haven’t any 


TflE TWO PILGRIMS. 


05 


strength,” says the muzhik. “ There was no way of 
curing us.” 

I was the only one,” says the old woman, “ who 
kept up ; but without eating, I lost my strength, and 
got puny. And the little girl got puny, and lost heart. 
We sent her to the neighbors, but she wouldn’t go. 
She crept into the corner, and wouldn’t come out. Day 
before yesterday a neighbor came round, yes, and she 
saw that we were starving, and were sick ; but she 
turned round and went off. Her husband had left 
her, and she hadn’t any thing to feed her little chil- 
dren with. . . . And so here we lay, — waiting for 
death.” 

Yelis^i’ listened to their talk, changed his mind about 
going to rejoin his companion that day, and spent the 
night there. 

In the morning Yelis4i got up, did the chores as 
though he were master of the house. He and the old 
woman kneaded the bread, and he kindled the fire. 
He went with the little girl to the neighbors’, to get 
what they needed ; for there was nothing to be found 
— nothing at all ; every thing had been disposed of ; 
there was nothing for domestic purposes, and no cloth- 
ing. And Yelis(^i began to lay in a supply of what 
was needed. Some he himself made, and some he 
bought. Thus Yelisei spent one day, spent a second, 
spent also a third. 

The little boy got better, began to climb up on the 
bench, to caress Yelisei. But the little girl becomes 
perfectly gay, helps in all things. And she keeps 
running after Yelisei: “ Grand-dad, dear little grand- 
daddy ! ” ^ And the old woman also got up, and went 
among the neighbors. And the muzhik began to walk, 

* Didu, didiisyUf Malo Russian for dyedyUt dyedashka. 


GG 


THE TWO PILGRIMS. 


supporting himself by the wall. Only the baba still 
lay unconscious ; but even she, on the third day, came 
to herself, and began to ask for something to eat. 
“ Well,” thinks Yelis4i, “ I didn’t expect to spend so 
much time ; now I’ll be going.” 


THE TWO PILGRIMS. 


G7 


VI. 

On the fourth clay, meat-eating was allowed for the 
first time after the fast; and Yelis4i thinks, Come, 
now, I will feast with these people. I will buy them 
something for the Saints’ day,^ and toward evening I 
will go.” Yelis4i went to the village again, bought milk, 
white flour, lard. He and the old woman boiled and 
baked ; and in the morning Yelisei went to mass, came 
home, ate meat with the people. Oil this day the wife 
also got up, and began to creep about. And the muz- 
hik had shaved, put on a clean shirt, — the old woman 
had washed it out, — and gone to the village to ask 
mercy of a rich muzhik. Both meadow and corn-land 
had been mortgaged to the rich muzhik. So he went 
to ask if he would not give him the meadow and corn- 
land till the new crops. 

The khozydi’n returned toward evening, gloomy and 
in tears. The rich muzhik would not have pity on 
him : “ He says, ‘ bring your money.’ ” 

Again Y'elisei falls into thought. 

“How will he live now?” thinks he. “The men 
will be going out to mow : he has nothing. His hay- 
field is mortgaged. The rye is ripening ; the men are 
beginning to harvest it (our good mdtushka has come 
up well this year), but these won’t have anything: 
their field ^ has been mortgaged to the rich muzhik. If 
I go away, they’ll all go wrong again.” 

1 St. Peter and St. Paul; July 11 (June 29, O.S.). 


2 Desydtina. 


G8 


THE TWO PILGRIMS. 


And Yelis^i was much troubled by these thoughts, 
and did not take his departure that evening : he waited 
till morning. He went out into the dvor to sleep. He 
said his prayers, lay down, but couldn’t sleep. “I must 
go — here 1 have been spending so much money and 
time — and I’m sorry for these people. You can’t 
give to everybody, evidently. I meant to get them 
some water, and give them a slice of bread ; but just 
see how it has taken me ! Now — I must redeem their 
meadow and their field. And when I’ve redeemed 
their field, I must buy a cow for the children, and a 
horse to carry the muzhik’s sheaves. There you are 
in a pretty pickle, brother Yelisei Kuzmitch ! You’re 
anchored here, and you don’t get off so easy ! ” 

Yelisei got up, took his kaftan from under his head, 
unfolded it, found his snuff-horn, took a pinch of snuff, 
tried to clear up his thoughts ; but no, he thought and he 
thought, but could not think it out. He must go ; but 
he pitied these people. And what to do, he knew not. 
He folded up his kaftan for a pillow, and lay down 
again. He lay and he lay, and the cocks were already’’ 
singing when he finally fell into a doze. Suddenly, 
something seemed to wake him up. He sees himself, 
as it were, all dressed, with his sack and his staff ; and 
he has to go into a gate, but the gate is so nearly shut 
that only one person can get through at a time. And 
he goes to the gate, and got caught on one side by his 
sack : he tried to detach it, and got caught on the other 
side by his leg-wrapper ; and the leg-wrapper untied. 
He tried to detach it, but he w^as not caught b}" the 
wattle after all ; but that little girl holds him, crying, 
“Grand-dad, dear little grand-dadd}', bread! ” ^ He 
looked down at his leg, and to his leg-wrapper the 

1 Didu, did'usyu, khliba. 


THE TWO PILGRIMS. 


G9 


little boy is clinging : the old woman and the muzhik 
are gazing from the window. 

Yelis4i woke up, and said to himself aloud, “ To- 
morrow,” says he, “I will redeem the field and the 
meadow ; and I will buy a horse, and flour enough 
to last till the new comes ; and I will buy a cow for the 
children. For you will go across the sea to find Christ, 
and lose him in your own soul. I must set these peo- 
ple right.” 

And Yelisei slept till morning. 

Yelisei woke up early. He went to the rich muz- 
hik : he redeemed tlie rye-field ; he paid cash for it, 
and for the meadow-land. He bought a scythe, — the 
very one that had been disposed of, — brought it back. 
He sent the muzhik to mow, and he himself went to 
the muzhiks ; at last found a horse and tely^ga which 
an inn-keeper was ready to sell. He struck a bargain, 
bought them. He bought, also, some flour, put the 
sack in the tel 3 "ega, and went farther to buy a cow. 
Y'elisei is going along : he overtakes two Top-Knots. 
They are babas ; and, as they walk, they gossip. And 
Yelisei hears the babas talking in their own speech, and 
he makes out that they are talking about him. 

Heavens ! at first they didn’t know what to make 
of him : their idea was, he was a mere man. As he 
came by, it seems, he stopped to get a drink, and then 
he staid. Whatever they needed, he bought. I my- 
self saw him this very day buy of the tavern-keeper a 
nag and cart.^ Didn’t know there were such folks in 
the world. Must go and see him ! ” 

Yelisei heard this ; understood that they were praising 
him, and did not go to buy the cow. He returned to 
the tavern, and paid the money for the horse. He 

1 Vos. Malo Russiau for telyiga. 


70 


THE TWO PILGRIMS. 


harnessed np, and drove with the wheat back to the 
hut. He drove up to the gate, reined in, and dis- 
mounted from the tely^ga. The household saw the 
horse : they wondered. And it comes to them that he 
had bought the horse for them, but they dare not say- 
so. The khozydin came out to open tlie gate. 

“Where,” says he, “did you get the nag, grand- 
pa? ” 

“ I bought it,” sa3"s he. “ I got it cheap. Mow a 
little grass, please, for the stall, for her to lie on over 
night. Yes, and lug in the bag.” 

The khozyain unharnessed the horse, lugged the bag 
into the house, mowed a lot of grass, spread it in the 
stall. They went to bed. Yelisei lay down out-doors, 
and there he had lugged his sack the evening before. 
All the folks were asleep. Yelisei got up, shouldered 
his sack, fastened his boots, put on his kaftan, and 
started on his way after Yefim. 


THE TWO PILGRIMS, 


71 


VII. 

Yelisei lind gone five versts : it began to grow light. 
He sat down under a tree, opened his sack, began to 
reckon. He counted his money : there were left only 
seventeen rubles, twenty kopeks. 

“ Well,” thinks he, “ with this you won’t get across 
the sea. And to beg in Christ’s name — that might 
be a great sin. P’riend Yefim will go alone : he’ll set 
a candle for me. But the tax will remain on me till 
death. Thank the Lord, the Master is kind : he will 
have patience.” 

Yelis^i got up, lifted his sack upon his shoulders, 
and went back. Only, he went out of his way round 
the village, so that the people of it might not see him. 
And Yelisei reached home quickly. When he started, 
it seemed hard to him, beyond his strength, to keep 
up with Yefim ; but going back, God gave him such 
strength that he walks along and does not know fatigue. 
He walks along gayly, swings his staff, goes his seventy 
versts a day. 

Yelisei reached home. Already the fields had been 
harvested. The folks were delighted to see their old 
man : they began to ask him questions, — how, and 
what, and why he had left his companion, why he did 
not go on, but came home. Yelisei did not care to tell 
them about it. 

“God did not permit me,” says he. “I spent my 


THE TWO PILGRIMS. 


I'l 

mone}" on the road, and got behind my companion. 
And so I did not go. Forgive me, for Christ’s sake.” 

And he handed the old woman his remaining money. 
Yelisei inquired about the domestic affairs: it was all 
right ; every thing had been done properly ; there was 
nothing left undone in the farm-work, and all are 
living in peace and harmony. 

On this very same day, Yefim’s people heard that 
Yelisei had returned : they came round to ask after 
their old man. And Yelisei told them the same thing. 

“ Your old man,” says he, “ went on sturdily; we 
parted,” sa3's he, “ three days before Peter’s Da}'; I 
intended to catch up with him, but then so many things 
happened: 1 spent my mo,ney, and, as I couldn’t go on 
with what I had, I came back.” 

The people wondered how such a sensible man could 
have done so foolishly — start out, and not go on, and 
only waste his money. They wondered and forgot. 
And Yelisei forgot. He began to do the chores again ; 
he helped his son chop wood against the winter ; he 
threshed the corn with the babas ; he re-thatched tlie 
shed, arranged about the bees, and gave his neighbor 
the ten hives with their increase. His old woman 
wanted to hide how many swarms had come from the 
hives that he had sold : but Yelisei himself knew what 
hives had swarmed, and what had not ; and he gave 
his neighbor, instead cf ten, seventeen swarms. Yel- 
isei arranged every thing, sent his son off to work, 
and he himself settled down for the winter to make 
bast-shoes ^ and chisel out bee-hives. 


THE TWO PILGRIMS. 


/o 


VIII. 

All that day that Yelis^i staid in the sick folks’ 
hut, Yefim waited for his companion. He went a little 
way, and sat down. He waited, waited ; went to sleep, 
woke up ; still sat there ; no companion ! He gazed 
with all his eyes. Already the sun had gone behind 
the trees — no Yclisei. 

“ He can’t have gone past me, or ridden by (perhaps 
some one gave him a lift), and not seen me while I 
was asleep, can he? He could not have helped seeing 
me. You see a long way on the steppes. If I should 
go back,” he thinks, he would be getting ahead. 
We might miss each other : that would be still worse. 
I will go on : we shall meet at our lodging.” 

He went on to a village, asked the village police- 
men ^ to send such and such an old man, if he came 
along, to yonder hut. 

Yelisei did not come to the lodging. 

Yefim went farther; asked everybody if they had 
seen a bald, little old man. No one had. Yefim won- 
dered, and went on alone. 

We shall meet,” he thinks, “ in Odessa somewhere, 
or on board ship.” And he ceasea to think about it. 

On the ^vay he met a strdnnik.^ The strjlnnik wore 
a skull-cap and cassock, and had long hair ; had been 
to the Athos Monastery, and was going to Jerusalem 
for the second time. They met at the lodgings, got 
into conversation, and went on together. 


* DeaydUki. 


2 A profesdioual pilgrim, of the genus tramp. 


74 


THE TWO PILGRIMS. 


They reached Odessa safely. They waited thrice 
twenty-four hours for a ship. Many pilgrims were 
waiting there. The}’ were from dift'erent lands. Again 
Yefim made inquiries about Yelisei : no one had seen 
him. 

Yefim asked for a passport : it cost five rubles. He 
paid forty silver rubles ^ for a return-ticket ; bought 
bread and herring for the voyage. The vessel was 
loaded, the pilgrims embarked : Tai'dsu itch also took liis 
place with the strannik. They hoisted anchor, set sail, 
flew across the sea. They sailed well all day ; at evening 
a wind sprang up, rain fell ; it began to get rough, and 
the waves dashed over the ship. The people were 
thrown about, the babas began to scream, and the 
vv^eaker among the men began to run about the vessel, 
trying to find a place. 

Fear fell upon Yefim also, but he did not show it. 
Exactly where he had sat down on coming on board, 
near some old men from Tambof, here also he kept 
sitting all night and all the next day : they only clung 
to their sacks, and said nothing. It cleared off on 
the third day. On the fifth day they reached Tsar- 
Some of the stranniks were put ashore : they 
wanted to look at the temple of Sophia- Wisdom, wdiere 
now the Turks hold sway. Tardsuitch did not land : 
he still sat on board. Only he bought some white 
loaves. They staid twenty-four hours : again they 
flew over the sea. They made another stop at the 
city of Smyrna ; at another city, Alexandria ; and they 
happily reached the city of Jaffa. At Jaffa all the 
pilgrims disembarked. It was seventy versts on foot 
to Jerusalem. Also at landing, the people weie panic- 
struck : the ship was high, and the people had to jump 

1 Tsyelkoviks. * ConsUutiuople, the Tsar-city. 


THE TWO PILGRIMS. 


75 


down into boats ; and the boat rocked, and one might 
not strike it, but fall in alongside ; and two men were 
drenched, but all ended happily. 

They landed and started off on foot. On the third 
da}’ after landing, they reached Jerusalem. They estab- 
lished themselves in the city at the Russian hostelry ; ^ 
their passports are visa-cd ; they ate dinner ; they went 
with the stranuik to the Holy Places. But to the 
Lord’s sepulchre itself, there was no longer any ad- 
mittance. ^ 

They went to the Patriarchal Monastery ; there all the 
worshippers collected ; the feminine sex sat down, the 
masculine sex also sat dowm in another place. They 
were bidden to take off their shoes, and to sit in a 
circle. A monk came in witli a towel, and began to 
wash all their feet : he washes them, wipes them, and 
kisses them ; and thus he does to all. He washed 
Yefim’s feet, and kissed them. They attended vespers, 
matins : they said their prayers, they placed candles, 
and presented petitions for their parents. And here 
also they took an occasional bite, and brought wine. 

In the morning they went to the cell of Mary of Egypt, 
where she made her refuge. They set up candles, sang 
a Te Deum. Thence they went to the Monastery of 
Abraham. They saw the garden on Mount Moriah — 
the plac^ w’here Abraham w^as going to sacrifice his son 

* The five or six thousand Russian pilgrims who every year visit Jerusa- 
i’era, says a recent traveller, “are all accommodated in the extensive premises 
belonging to the Russian Government, in the centre of which the Russian 
Consulate is situated, and which forms a sort of Russian suburb to the Holy 
City.” Mr. Oliphant quotes a correspondent of the Daily News to the effect 
that the “Orthodox Palestine Society, one of whose tasks it is to facilitate 
Russian pilgrimage to the Holy Land,” has a membership of more than six 
hundred members, a reserve capital of sixty thousand rubles, and a Grand 
Duke — the uncle of the Tsar — as its president. It is a curious question 
how long religious fanatics will be able to impose the “ pious frauds ” of the 
religious places upon credulous pilgrims, such as Yefim Tarasuitch. 


76 


THE TWO PILGRIMS. 


to God. Then they went to the place where Christ 
revealed himself to Mary Magdalene, and to the Church 
of James the Brother of the Lord. 

The strannik pointed out all these places, and always 
told where it was necessary to contribute money. They 
returned for dinner to the hostelry ; and after dinner, 
just as they were getting ready to go to bed, the stran- 
nik began to say ylM, to shake his clothes, to search. 
“I have been robbed,” he sa3’s, “of my portmonet., 
wdth my money. Twenty-three rubles, ’ ’ says he, ‘ ‘ there 
was in it — two ten-ruble notes, and three in change.” 
The strannik mourned, mourned ) nothing to be done : 
they lay down to sleep. 


THE TWO PILGRIMS. 


77 


IX. 

Yefim lay down to sleep, and temptation fell upon 
him. “The strdnnik’s money was not stolen,” he 
thinks : “ he didn’t have any. He never gave any. He 
told me where to give, but he himself did not give : yes, 
and he borrowed a ruble of me.” 

Thus Yefim thinks, and then he begins to scold 
himself. “ Why,” says he, “do I judge the man? I 
do wrong. I won’t think about it.” 

As he becomes sleepy, again he begins to think how 
sharp the strdnnik was about money, and how he tells 
an unlikely story about his portmonet being stolen. 
“He hadn’t any money,” he thinks. “ It was a trick.” 

Next morning they got up, and went to early mass 
in the great Church of the Resurrection ; to the tomb 
of the Lord. The strdnnik does not leave Yefim : he 
goes with him everywhere. 

They went to the church. A great crowd of people 
were collected together, of pilgrim-strdnniks, Russians, 
and all peoples — of Greeks and Armenians, and Turks 
and Syrians. Yefim entered the sacred gates with the 
people. A monk led them. He led them past Turkish 
guards to the place where the Saviour was taken from 
the cross, and anointed, r.nd where the nine great 
candlesticks are burning. He points out every thing, 
and tells them every thing. Here Yefim p aced a 
candle. Then some monks led Yefim to the right hand 
up the little flight of steps to Golgotha, where the cross 


•78 


THE TWO PILGRIMS. 


stood. Here Yefim said a* prayer. Then they pointed 
out to Yefim the hole where the earth had opened down 
to hell ; then they pointed out the place where they had 
fastened Christ’s hands and feet to the cross ; then 
they showed the tomb of Adam, over whose bones 
Christ’s blood had flowed ; then they came to the 
stone whereon Christ had sat when they put on him 
the crown of thorns ; then to the pillar to which they 
bound Christ when they scourged him ; then Yefim 
saw the stone with two hollows for Christ’s feet. They 
were going to show them something more, but the 
crowd were in a hurry : they all rushed to the very 
grotto of the Lord’s sepulchre. There the foreign 
mass had just ended, the orthodox mass was just be- 
ginning. Yefim went into the grotto with the throng. 

He was anxious to get rid of the strdnnik, for contin- 
ually in his thoughts he was sinning against the stran- 
iiik : but the strdnnik would not be got rid of ; in com- 
pany with him he goes to mass at the Lord’s sepulchre. 
They tried to get nearer : thej” did not get there in time. 
The people are wedged so close that there is no going 
forward or back. Yefim stands, gazes forward, says 
his prayers ; but it is no use ; ^ he keeps feeling whether 
his purse is still there. He is divided in his thoughts : 
one way he thinks the strdnnik is deceiving him ; the 
other, he thinks, “Or, if he is not deceiving me, and 
he was really robbed, why, then, it might be the same 
with me also.” 


1 N'yet, n'yCt. Lilcrully, no^ no. 


THE TWO PILGRIMS. 


79 


X. 

Thus Yefim stands, says his pra3’ers, and looks 
forward toward the chapel where the sepulchre 
itself is ; and on the sepulchre the thirty-six lamps 
are burning. Yefim stands, looks over the heads, 
when, what a marvel ! Under the lamps themselves, 
where the blessed fire burns before all, he sees a little 
old man standing, in a coarse kaftan, with a bald spot 
over his whole head, just as in the case of Yelis^i 
Bodrof. 

“ It’s like Yelis^i,’’ he thinks. “ But it can’t be him. 
He can’t have got here before me. No vessel had 
sailed for a week before us. He couldn’t have got 
ill ahead. And he wasn’t on our vessel. 1 saw all 
the pilgrims.” 

While Yefim was thus reasoning, the little old man 
began to praj" ; and he bowed three times — once straight 
ahead, toward God, and then toward the orthodox 
throng on all sides. And as the little old man bent 
down his head to the right, then Yefim recognized him. 
It is Bodrof himself, with his blackish, curly beard, 
growing gray on the cheeks ; and his eyebrows, and 
eyes, and nose, and all his peculiarities. It is Yeliscn 
Bodrof himself. 

Yefim was filled with joy because his companion had 
come, and wondered how Yelis4i had got there ahead 
of him. “Well, well, Bodrof,” he says to himself. 


80 


THE TWO PILGRIMS. 


“ how did he get up there in front? He must hnve 
fallen in with somebody who put him there. Let me 
just meet him as we go out : I’ll get rid of this strdn- 
nik in his skull-cap, and go with him ; and perhaps he 
will get me a front place too.” 

And all the time Yefim keeps his eyes on Yelisci, so 
as not to miss him. 

Now the mass was over ; the crowd reeled, they tried 
to make their way, they struggled ; Yefim was pushed 
to one side. Again the fear came upon him that some 
one would steal his purse. 

Yefim clutched his purse, and tried to break through 
the crowd, so as to get into an open space. He made 
his way into the open space ; he went and went, he 
sought and sought for Yelis^n, and in the church also. 
And there, also, in the church he saw many people in 
cloisters ; and some were eating, and drinking wine, 
and sleeping, and reading. And there was no Yelistn' 
anywhere. Yefim returned to the hostelry, did not 
lind his companion. And this evening the strdnnik 
also did not come back. He disappeared, and did not 
return the ruble. Yefim was left alone. 

On the next day Yefim again went to the Lord’s sep- 
ulchre with an old man from Tambof , who had come on 
the same ship with him. He wanted to get to the front, 
but again he was crowded back ; and he stood by a pillar, 
and prayed. He looked to the front: again under the 
lamps, at the very sepulchre of the Lord, in the fore- 
most place, stands Yelisei, spreads his arms like the 
priest at the altar ; and the light shines all over his bald 
head. 

“Well,” thinks Yefim, “ now I’ll surely not miss 
him.” 


THE TWO riLGRIMS^, 


81 


He tries to push through to the front. He pushes 
through. No Yelisei. Apparently gone out. 

And on the third day, again he gazes towards the 
Lord’s sepulchre : in the same sacred spot stands Yel- 
isei, with the same aspect, his arms outspread, and 
looking up, almost as though his eyes were fixed upon 
him. And the bald spot on his whole head shines. 

“Well,” thinks Yefim, “ now I’ll not miss him : I’ll 
go and stand at the door. There we sha’n’t miss each 
other.” 

Yefim went and stood and stood. He stood there 
half the day : all the people went out — no Yelisei. 

Yefim spent six weeks in Jerusalem, and visited 
every thing; and in Bethlehem, and Bethany, and on 
the Jordan : and he had a seal stamped on a new shirt 
at the Lord’s sepulchre, so that he might be buried in 
it ; and he got some Jordan water in a vial, and some 
earth ; and he got some candles with the holy fire, and 
he noted down his recollections in all places ; and hav- 
ing spent all his money, except enough to get him home, 
Yefim started on the home-journey. He went to Jaffa, 
took passage in a ship, sailed to Odessa, and started to 
walk home. 


82 


THE TWO PILGRIMS. 


XL 

Yefim walks alone over the same road as before. As 
he began to near his home, again the worriment came 
upon him as to how the folks were getting along with- 
out him. “In a year,” thinks he, “ much water leaks 
away. You spend a whole lifetime making a house, 
and it don’t take long to go to waste.” How had his 
son eonducted affairs? how had the spring opened up? 
how had the cattle weathered the winter? how had they 
done the izbd? ” 

Yefim reached that place where, the year before, he 
had parted from Yelis^i. It was impossible to recog- 
nize the people. Where, the preceding year, the people 
were wretchedly poor, now all lived in sufficient com- 
fort. There had been good crops. The people had 
recovered, and forgotten their former trouble. 

Yefim at evening reached the very village where, the 
year before, Yelisei had stopped. He had hardly en- 
tered the village, when a little girl in a white shirt 
sprang out from behind a hut : — 

“Grandpa! Dear grandpa!^ Come into our 
house ! ’ ’ 

Yefim was inclined to go on, but the little girl would 
not allow him : she seizes him by the skirts, pulls him 
along into the hut, and laughs. 

There came out upon the doorsteps a woman witli a 
little boy ; she also beckons to him : “ Come in, please, 

1 Did! didko. Malo Russian for D'l/cd, d' yedushka. 


rriR TWO ni.GRiM^, 


<sn 


grand-sire, cV yedushko ^ — and take supper with us, — 
you shall spend the night.” 

Yefim went in. 

‘‘ That’s just right,” he thinks: “Twill ask about 
Yelis^i. No doubt, this is the very hut where he stopped 
to get a drink.” 

Yefim went in : the w^oman took his sack from him, 
gave him a chance to wash, and set him at the ta))le. 
She put on milk, var 4 niki^^ kasha-gruel, — she set 
them all on the table. Tardsuitch thanked and praised 
the people for being so hospitable to stranniks. The 
woman shook her head : — ' 

“ We cannot help being hospitable to stranniks. 
"We owe our lives to a strdunik. We lived, we had for- 
gotten God, and God had forgotten us, so that all that 
we expected wms death. - Last summer it went so bad 
with us, that we were all sick, — and had nothing to 
cat, and — w'e were sick. And we should have died ; 
but God sent us such a nice old man, just like 3'ou ! He 
came in just at noon to get a drink ; and when he saw 
us, he was sorry for us, 3^es, and he staid on with us. 
And he gave us something to drink, and fed us, and put 
us on our legs ; and he bought back our land, and he 
bought us a horse and telycga, left them with us.” 

The old woman came into the hut ; she interrupted 
the w'oman’s story: “And w’e don’t know at all,” 
says she, “ whether it wms a man, or an angel of God. 
He loved us all so, and he was so sorry for us ; and he 
w’ent away, and did not tell us [who he was], and we 
don’t know who w'e should pray God for. I can sec it 
now just as it was : there I was lying, expecting to die ; 
1 see a little old man come in — not a bit stuck up — 

’ A sort of triangular cioughnutu, or boiled patties, stuffed with cheese 
or curds. 


84 


THE TWO PILGRIMS. 


rather bald — he asks for water. Sinner that I was, I 
thought, ‘ What are they prowling round here for ? ’ And 
think what he did ! As soon as he saw us, he right off 
with his sack, and set it right on that spot, and untied 
it.” 

And the little girl broke in, — 

“No,” says she, “babushka: first he set his sack 
right ill the middle of the hut, and then he put it on 
the bench.” 

And they began to discuss it, and to recall all his 
w’ords and actions ; both where he sat, and where he 
slept, and what he did, and what he said to any of 
them. 

At nightfall came the muzhik- khozy dm on horse- 
back : he, also, began to tell about Yelisei, and how he 
had lived with them : — 

“If he had not come to us,” says he, “ we should all 
have died in our sins. We were perishing in despair : 
we murmured against God and against men. But he 
set us on our feet ; and through him we learned to know 
God, and we have come to believe that there are good 
people. Christ bless him ! Before, we lived like cat- 
tle : he made us men.” 

The people fed Yefim, gave him enough to drink : 
they fixed him for the night, and they themselves lay 
down to sleep. 

Y'efim is unable to sleep ; and the thought does not 
leave his mind, how he had seen Y''elis4i in Jerusalem 
three times m the foremost place. “ That’s how he 
got there before me,” he thinks. “ My labors ma}^ or 
may not, be accepted, but the Lord has accepted his.” 

In the morning the people wished Yefim good-speed ; 
they loaded him with pirozhki for his journey, and they 
went to their work : and Yefim started on his way. 


THE TWO PILGRIMS. 


85 


XII. 

YefIm had been gone exactly a year. In the spring 
he returned home. 

He reached home in the evening. His son was not 
at home : he was at the tavern. His son came home 
tipsy. Yefim began to question him. In all respects he 
saw' that the young man had got into bad wa\'s during 
his absence. He had spent all the money badly, he 
had neglected things. The father began to reprimand 
him. The son began to be impudent. 

‘‘You yourself might have stirred about a little,’’ 
says he, “ but you went wandering. Yes, and you 
took all the money with you besides, and then you call 
me to account ! ” 

The father grew angry, beat his son. 

In the morning Yefim Tardsuitch started for the 
stdrosta’s to talk with him about his son : he goes 
by Yelis^i’s dvor. Yelisei’s old woman is standing on 
the doorsteps : she greets him. 

“How’s your health, neighbor?” says she: “did 
you have a good pilgrimage? ” 

Yefim Tardsuitch stopped. 

“ Glory to God,” says he, “I have been! I lost 
your old man, but I hear he got home ! ” 

And the old woman began to talk. She was very 
fond of prattling. 

“He got back,” says she, “good neighbor: he got 


80 


THE TWO Pri.GIifMS. 


back long ago. Veiy soon after the Assumption. And 
glad enough we were that God brought him. It was 
lonesome for us without him. He isn’t good for much 
work — his clay is done ; but he is the head, and w'e 
are happier. And how glad our lad was ! ‘ Without 

fnther,’ says he, ‘ it’s like being without light in the 
eye.’ It was lonesome for us without him, we love 
him and we missed him so ! ” 

“ AV'ell, is he at home now? ” 

“ Yes, friend, he’s with the bees : he’s hiving the new 
swarms. ‘ Splendid swarms,’ says he : such a powder of 
bees God never gave, as far as my old man remembers. 
God doesn’t grant according to our sins, he says. Come 
in, neighbor : how glad he’ll be to see you ! ” 

Yefim passed through the vestibule, through the dvor 
to the apiary where Yelisei was. He went into the 
apiary, he looks — Yelis^i is standing under a little 
birch-tree, without a net, without gloves, in his gray 
kaftan, spreading out his arms, and looking up; and 
the bald spot over his whole head gleams, just as when 
he stood in Jerusalem at the Lord’s sepulchre ; and over 
him, just as in Jerusalem the candles burned, the sun- 
light plays through the birch-tree ; and around his head 
the golden bees circle in a crown, fly in and out, and do 
not sting him. 

Yefim stood still. 

Yelis4i’s old w'oman called to her husband : — 

“ Our neighbor’s come,” says she. 

Yelisei looked around, was delighted, came to meet 
his companion, calmly detaching the bees from his 
beard. 

“ How are you, comrade, how are you, my dear 
friend ! — did you have a good journey? ” 


THE TWO riLCIUMSi. 


S7 


“M3’ feet wenl^on the pilgrimage, and I have 
brought 3’ou some water from the river Jordan. Come 
— you shall have it — but whether the Lord accepted 
my labors ’ ’ — 

“ Well, glory to God, Christ save us ! ” 

Yefim was silent for a moment. 

“ My legs took me there, but whether it was my soul 
that was there, or another’s ” — 

“That is God’s affair, comrade, God’s affair.” 

“ On my way back I stopped also — at the hut where 
you left me ” — 

Yelis(^i became confused : he hastened to repeat, — 

“ It’s God’s affair, comrade, God’s affair. What 
say you ? shall we go into the izbd ? — I will bring 
you some hone3'.” 

And Yelis6i changed the conversation: he spoke 
about domestic affairs. 

Yefim sighed, and did not again remind YelisCi of 
the people in the hut, and the vision of him that he 
had seen in Jerusalem. And he learned that in this 
world God bids every one do his duty till death — in 
love and good deed#. 


TEXTS FOR WOOD-CUTS. 


1885. 


TOE devil’s persistent, BUT GOD IS RESISTANT.^ 

There lived in old time a good master.’^ He had 
plenty of eveiy thing, and many slaves served him. 
And the slaves used to praise their master.^ They 
said, — 

“ There is not a better master under heaven than 
ours. He not only feeds us and clothes us well, and 
gives us work according to our strength, but he never 
insults any of us, and never gets angry with us : he isn t 
like other masters, wlio treat their slaves worse than 
cattle, and kill them whether they are to blame or not, 
and never say a kind word to them. Our master, he 
wishes us well, and treats us kindly, and says pleasant 
things to us. We couldn’t have a better life than 
ours.” 

Thus the slaves praised their master. 

And here the Devil began to get vexed because the 
slaves lived in comfort and love with their master. 

And the Devil got hold of one of the slaves of this 
master, named Ar3’eb. He got hold of him — com- 
manded him to entice the other slaves. 

1 Vrazhye Lydpko a Bozhyd Kryipko. 

2 Khozydin. s Gospodin, Lord. 

88 


TEXTS FOR WOOD-CFTS. 


89 


And when all the slaves were taking their rest, and 
were praising their master, Al’yeb raised his voice, 
and said, “ It’s all nonsense yoiir praising our master’s 
goodness. Try to humor the Devil, and the Devil will 
be good. We serve our master well, we humor him in 
all things. As soon as he thinks of any thing, we do 
it : we divine his thoughts. How make him be not 
good to us? Just stop humoring him, and do bad 
work for him, and he will be like all the others, and 
he will return evil for evil worse than the crosses! of 
masters.” 

And the other slaves began to argue with Alyeb. 
And they argued, and laid a w^ager. Alyeb undertook 
to make their kind master angry. He undertook it on 
the condition, that, if he does not make him angry, he 
shall give his Sunday clothes ; but if he makes him 
angry, then they agree to give him, each one of them, 
their Sunday clothes ; and, moreover, they agree to pro- 
tect him from their master, if he should be put in irons, 
or, if throwm in prison, to free him. They laid the 
wager, and Al’yeb promised to make their master angry 
the next morning. 

Alyeb served his master in the sheep-cote : he had 
charge of the costly breeding-rams. 

And here in the morning the good master came with 
some guests to the sheep-cote, and began to show 
them his beloved, costly rams. The Devil’s accomplice 
wdnked to his comrades : — 

“ Look ! I’ll soon get the master angry.” 

All the slaves had gathered. They peeked in at the 
door and through the fence ; and the Devil climbed into 
a tree, and looks down into the dvor, to see how his 
accomplice will do his work. 

The master came round the dvor, showed his guests 


90 


TEXTS FOR WOOD-CUTS. 


his sheep and lambs, and then was going to show his 
best ram. 

“ The other rams,” says he, “are good ; but this one 
here, the one with the twisted horns, is priceless ; he is 
dearer to me than my eyes.” 

The sheep and rams are jumping about the dvor to 
avoid the people, and the guests are unable to examine 
the valuable ram. This ram scarcely comes to a stop 
when the Devil’s accomplice, as though accidentallj", 
scares the sheep, and again they get mixed up. 

The guests are unable to make out which is the price- 
less ram. 

Here the master became tired. He says, — 

“ Alyeb, my dear, just try to catch the best ram 
with the wrinkled horns, and hold him. Be careful.” 

And, as soon as the master said this, Al’yeb threw 
himself, like a lion, amid the rams, and caught the price- 
less ram by the wool. He caught him by the wool, and 
instantly grabbed him with one hand by the left hind- 
leg, lifted it up, and, right before the master’s eyes, 
bent his leg, and it cracked like a dry stick. Al’yeb 
broke the dear ram’s leg near the knee. The ram 
bleated, and fell on his fore-knees. Alyeb grabbed 
him by the right leg ; but the left turned inside out, and 
hung down like a whip. The guests and all the slaves 
said, “Akh ! ” and the Devil rejoiced when he saw how 
cleverly Al’yeb had done his job. 

The khozydin grew darker than night, frowned, hung 
his head, and said not a word. The guests and slaves 
were also silent. . . . They waited to see what would 
be. 

The khozydin kept silent a while : then he shook 
himself, as though trying to throw off something, and 
raised his head, and turned his eyes heavenward. Not 


TEXTS FOR WOOD-CUTS. 


91 


long he gazed before the wrinkles on his brow disap- 
peared : he smiled, and fixed his e3"es on Al’^^eb. He 
looked at Al’yeb, smiled again, and said, “ O Al’yeb, 
Al’yeb ! Thy master told thee to make me angry. But 
my master is stronger than thine, and thou hast not 
led me into anger ; but I shall make th}" master angry. 
Thou wert afraid that I would punish thee, and hast 
wished to be free, Al’yeb. Know, then, that thy pun- 
ishment will not come from me ; but as thou art anxious 
for thy freedom, here, in the presence of my guests, I 
give thee thy dismissal. Go wherever it may please 
thee,^ and take thy Sunday clothes.” 

And the kind master went back to the house with 
his guests. But the Devil gnashed his teeth, fell from 
the tree, and sank through the earth. 

LITTLE GIRLS WISER THAN OLD MEN. 

Easter was early. Sleighing was just over. The 
snow still lay in the dvors, and little streams ran 
through the village. In an alley between two dvors a 
large pool had collected from the dung-heaps. And 
near this pool were standing two little girls from either 
dvor, — one of them younger, the other older. 

The mothers of the two little girls had dressed them 
in new sarafans, — the ^^ounger one’s blue, the elder’s 
of yellow flowered damask. Both were tied with red 
handkerchiefs. The little girls, after mass was over, had 
gone to the pool, showed each other their dresses, and 
began to play. And the whim seized them to splash 
in the watero The younger one was just going to wade 
into the pool with her little slippers on ; but the older 
one said, — 

“Don’t do it, Malashka — your mother will scold. 

1 Literally, “ to all four sides.’* 


92 


TEXTS FOR WOOD-CUTS. 


I’m going to take off my shoes and stockings — you 
take off yours.” 

The little girls took off their shoes and stockings, 
held up their clothes, and went into the pool so as to 
meet. Malashka waded iu up to her ankles, and says, — 

“ It’s deep, Akuliushka — I am afraid.” 

“This is nothing. It won’t be any deeper. Come 
right toward me.” 

They began to get nearer each other, ^nd Akulka 
says, — 

“ Be careful, Malashka, don’t splash, but go more 
slowly.” 

But the words were hardly out of her mouth, when 
Malashka put her foot down into the water : it splashed 
straight on Akulka’s sarafan. The sarafan was well 
spattered, and it flew into her nose and eyes. 

Akulka saw the spots on her sarafan : she became 
angry with Malashka, scolded her, ran after her, tried 
to slap her. 

Malashka was frightened seeing what mischief she 
had done, leaped out of the pool, hastened home. 

Akulka’s mother happened to pass by, saw her little 
daughter’s sarafan spattered, and her shirt bedaubed. 

“ How did you get yourself all covered with dirt, you 
good-for-nothing? ” 

“ Malashka spattered me on purpose.” 

Akulkin’s mother caught Malashka, and struck her 
on the back of the head. 

Malashka howled along the whole street. Malash- 
kiu’s mother came out : — 

“What are you striking my daughter for?” She 
began to scold her neighbor. A word for a word : the 
women got into a quarrel. The muzhiks ha,steued out, 
a great crowd gathered on the street. All are scream- 


Th'XTS FOR WOOD- CUTS. 


93 


ing. No one listens to anybody. They quarrel, and 
the one jostled the other; there was a general row im- 
minent: but an old woman, Akulkin’s grandmother,^ 
interfered. 

tShe came out into the midst of the muzhiks, and be- 
gan to speak : What are you doing, neighbors? What 
day is it? We ought to rejoice. And you are doing 
such wrong things ! 

They heed not the old woman : they almost strike 
her. And the old woman would never have succeeded 
in persuading them, had it not been for Akulka and 
INIalashka. While the babas were keeping up the quar- 
rel, Akulka cleaned her sarafanchik, and came out 
again to the pool in the alley. She picked up a little 
stone, and began to clear away the earth by the pool, 
so as to let the water run into the street. 

While she was cleaning it out, Malashka also came 
along, began to help her — to make a little gutter with 
a splinter. 

The muzhiks were just coming to blows when the 
water reached the street, flowing through the gutter 
made by the little girls ; and it went straight to the 
very spot where the old woman was trying to separate 
the muzhiks. 

The little girls are chasing it, one on one side, the 
other on the other, of the runnel. 

‘•‘Catch it, Malashka! catch it!” cries Akulka. 
Malashka also tries to say something, but laughter pre- 
vents. 

Thus the little girls chase it, and laugh as the splin- 
ter swims down the runnel. 

They ran right into the midst of tlie muzhiks. The 
old woman saw them, and she says to the muzhiks, — 


Bubka, 


04 


TEXTS FOR WOOD-CUTS. 


“You should fear God, you muzhiks! it was on 
account of the^ same little girls that you picked up 
a quarrel, but they forgot all about it long ago : 
dear little things, they are playing together lovingly 
again.” 

The muzhiks looked at the little girls, and felt 
ashamed. Then the muzhiks laughed at themselves, 
and went home to their dvors. 

“If ye are not like children, ye cannot cuter into 
the kingdom of God.” 

TWO BROTHERS AND GOLD. 

Once upon a time, there lived, not far from Jerusa- 
lem, tvvo brothers, the elder Afamisi, and the younger 
one Yoann. They lived on a mountain, not far from 
the city, and subsisted on what men gave them. The 
brothers spent all their lime in work. They did not 
>v«jrk on their own work, but on work for the poor. 
'Wherever there were people worn out by work, wher- 
ever they were ill, or orphans or widows, there the 
brothers w'ould go, and there they would work, and 
on their departure take no pay. Thus the brothers 
spent a whole week at a time, and met at their dwell- 
ing. Only on Sunday they staid at home, prayed and 
talked. And the angel of the Lord came to them and 
blessed them. On Monday they parted, each his own 
way. 

Thus the brothers lived many summers ; and every 
w'eek the angel of the Lord came to them, and blessed 
them. 

One Monday, when the brothers were going out to 
work, and had alread}' started down different sides, 
the elder, Afandsi, began to feel sorry to part from 
his bedoved brother ; and he halted, and looked back. 


TEXTS FOR WOOD-CUTS. 


05 


■r- 


Yoann was walking on his way, with head bent, and 
not looking up. 

But suddenly Yoann also stopped, and, as though he 
saw something, began to gaze back intently, shading 
his eyes with his hand. Then he approached what he 
was looking at : then suddenly he leaped to one side, 
and, without looking round, ran to the base of the 
mountain, and up the mountain, aw^ay from that place, 
as though a wild beast were pursuing him. 

Afanasi was surprised, and turned back to the place 
to see what had seared his brother so. 

As he approached nearer, he saw something glisten- 
ing in the sun. He came still nearer. On the grass, 
as though throwm out from a measure, is lying a heap 
of gold. 

And Afandsi w^as still more astonished, both at the 
gold, and at his brother’s flight. 

“What scared him? and why did he run away?” 
asked Afanasi of himself. “There is no sin in gold : 
sin is in man. Gold can do no harm : it may do good. 
How many widows and orphans this gold can nourish ! 
how many naked it can clad ! how many poor and sick 
it can heal ! We are now serving-men ; but our ser- 
vice is small, just as our strength is small. But with 
this gold, we can be of better service to people.” 
Thus reasoned Afandsi, and he wanted to tell all this 
to his brother ; but Yoann was already gone out of hear- 
ing, and could only be seen now like a little beetle on 
the other mountain. 

And Afandsi took off his coat, filled it with as much 
gold as he had strength to lug, put it on his shoulder, 
and carried it to the city. He came to a hotel, depos- 
ited the gold with the hotel-keeper, and went for the 
rest of it. 


96 


TEXTS FOR WOOD-CUTS. 


And when he had got all the gold, he went to the 
merchants, bought land in the city, bought bricks and 
lumber, engaged laborers, and began to build tliree 
houses. 

And Afandsi lived in the city three months. lie 
built in the city three houses, — one house, an asylum 
for widows and orphans ; the second house, a hospital 
for the sick and poverty-stricken ; the third house, for 
pilgrims ^ and beggars. 

And Afandsi found three pious old men ; and one of 
them he placed over the asylum, the other over the 
hospital, and the third over the pilgrims’ home. 

And still Afandsi had left three thousand gold-pieces. 
And he gave to each of the old men a thousand to dis- 
tribute among the [)oor. 

And all three of the houses began to fill with people, 
and men began to praise Afandsi for all that he had 
done. And Afandsi was so delighted at this, that he 
did not care to leave the city. 

But Afandsi loved his brother ; and having said 
good-by to the people, and not leaving himself any 
money at all, and wearing the very same old clothes in 
which he had come, he went back to his house. 

Afandsi is climbing down his mountain, and thiuk- 

“ My brother reasoned wrong when he jumped away 
from the gold and fled. Haven’t I done better? ” 

And this thought had scarcely occurred to Afandsi, 
when suddenly he sees standing right in his path, the 
same angel who had blessed them : he looks sternly at 
him. 

And Afandsi was stupefied, and could only say, — 

“ What is it, Lord? ” 


1 Stremniki. 


TEXTS FOR WOOD-CUTS. 


07 


And the angel opened his lips, and said, — 

“ Get thee hence ! Thou art unworthy to live with 
thy brother. Thy brother’s one leap is worth more 
than all those things that thou hast done with thy 
gold.” 

And Afanasi began to tell how many poor and wan- 
derers he had fed, how many orphans he had cared for. 

And the angel said to him, — 

“ The Devil, who put down the gold to seduce thee, 
also taught thee these words.” 

And then Afandsi felt the prick of conscience, and 
understood that he had not done these deeds for God’s 
sake ; and he burst into tears, and began to repent. 

Then the angel stepped out of the road, and allowed 
him to pass; and there stood Yoann, waiting for his 
brother. And from that time Afanasi did not give in 
to the temptation of the Devil that had scattered the 
gold ; and he learned that God and men can be served, 
not by gold, but only by deeds. 

And the brothers began to live as before. 

ILYAS. 

There lived in the government of Ufa a Bashkir, 
Ilyds. Ilyas was left poor by his father. His father 
got him a wife, and the next year died. At that time 
Ilyas’s possessions consisted of seven mares, two cows, 
and a score of sheep : but Ilyds was a good manager,^ 
and he began to gain ; from morning till night he and his 
wife worked ; he got up earlier than an}^ one else, and 
went to bed later than any one else, and each year he 
kept getting richer. Thus Ilyds toiled for thirty-five 
years, and he made a great fortune. 

Ilyds had two hundred head of horse, a hundred and 

1 KhozydUn. 


98 


TKXTS FOR WOOD-CUTS. 


fifty head of horned cattle, and twelve hundred sheep. 
The servants pastured the flocks and herds ; and the 
maid-servants milked the mares and cows, and made 
kumys., butter, and cheese. 

Ilyas had plenty of every thing, and all in the neighs 
borhood 'envied llyds’s life. Men said, — 

“ Lucky man, Ilyas. He has plenty of every thing : 
he doesn’t need to die.” 

Fine people began to get acquainted with Ilyds, and 
associate with him. And guests came to visit him from 
far and near. And Ilyas received them all, and fed 
them all, and gave them to drink. Whoever came had 
karat’s: all had tea, fish-broth,^ and mutton. As soon 
as guests came, he would immecliateh' have a ram 
killed, or two ; and if many came, they would kill a 
mare also. 

Ilyas had two sons and a daughter. He married 
off his sons, and got his daughter a husband. When 
Ilyds was poor, his sons worked with him, and they 
themselves pastured the flocks and herds ; but as they 
became rich, the sons began to get spoiled, and one 
took to drinking. 

One, the elder, was killed m a brawl : and the other, 
the younger, got a proud wife ; and this son began to 
be disobedient to his father, and Ilyas was compelled 
to banish him. 

Il}As banished him, but gave him a house and cat- 
tle ; and Ilyjis’s wealth was diminished. And soon 
after this a distemper fell upon Ilyds’s sheep, and 
many perished. Then there came a year of famine ; 
the hay did not ripen ; many cattle died during the 
winter. Then the Kirgiz carried off his best horses, 
aud Ilyds’s property began to diminish. 


' Sherbd, or shcherbd. 


TEXTS FOR WOOD-CUTS. 


Of) 

Ilyas began to fall lower and lower. And his 
strength \tas less than it had been. And at the age of 
seventy years, Ilyas had come to such a pass that he 
began to sell out his furs, his carpets, saddles, tip- 
carts,^ and then he began to dispose of his last cattle, 
and Ilyds came to nothing. 

He himself did not realize how he had nothing left ; 
but he and his wife were obliged, in their old age, to 
hire out as servants. All Ilyas’s possessions consisted 
of the clothes on his body, his shuba, a hat, shoes, and 
slippers — yes, and his wife, Sham-Shemagi, now an 
old woman. His banished son had gone to a far-off 
land, and kis daughter died. And then there was no 
one to help the old people. 

Their neighbor, Muhamedshah, felt sorry for the old 
people. Muhamedshah himself was neither poor nor 
rich, but lived in medium circumstances ; and he was a 
good man. 

He remembered Ilyds’s hospitality^, ^ and pitied him, 
and said to Ilyas, — 

“ Come, Ilyas,” says he, “ and live with me — you 
and your old woman. In summer you can w’ork for 
me in the garden, and in winter take care of the cattle ; 
and Sham-Shemagi may milk the mares, and make 
kumy's. I will feed and clothe you both : and wdiat- 
ever you need, tell me ; I will give it.” 

Ilyas thanked his neighbor, and he and his wife be- 
gan to live with Muhamedshah as servants. At first 
it came hard to them, but afterwards they got used 
to it ; and the old people began to live, and work as 
much as their strength permitted. 

The khozydhi found it profitable to keep such people, 
because they had been masters® themselves, and knew 

* Kibitki. * Ehlyib-col; literally, bread-salt. 8 Khotydeva, 


Lore. 


100 


TEXTS FOR WOOD-CUTS. 


how to keep things orderly, and were not lazy, and 
worked according to their strength : only Muliamedshah 
felt sorry to see how people of such high station 
should have fallen to such a low condition. 

Once it came to pass, that some guests, distant 
kinsmen, came to visit Muliamedshah : a Mulla came 
with them. 

Muliamedshah gave orders to have a ram caught ana 
killed. Ilyas dressed the ram, cooked it, and served 
it to the guests. The guests ate the mutton, drank 
some tea, and took some kum5’S. 

While the guests are sitting wdtli the khozyiiin on 
down-i)illows, on carpets, are drinking kHin^'s out of 
cups, and chatting, Ilyds had finished his chores, and 
was passing in front of the door. 

Muliamedshah saw him, and asked a guest, — 

“ Did you see that old man who went by the door?” 

“I saw him,” says the guest; “but what is there 
wonderful in him? ” 

“ This is remarkable, — he was once our richest man. 
His name is Ilyds : maybe you have heard of him? ” 

“ Certainl}- I have,” says the guest. “ I never saw 
him before, but his fame has been wide-spread.” 

“ Now he has nothing at all left, and he lives out at 
service with me : he and his old woman milk the cows.” 

The guest was amazed ; snapped his tongue, shook 
his head, and says, — 

“Yes, this shows how fortune turns round like a 
wheel : he who is on top gets to the bottom. Well, I 
sujipose the old man feels pretty bad about it? ” 

“ Who can tell about him? lie lives quietl}', peace- 
fully ; works well.” 

The guest says, “Can I have a talk with him? 1 
should like to ask him about his life.” 


TEXTS FOR WOOD-CUTS. 


101 


“Well/ you can,” sa^^s the khozydin, and shouts 
toward the tip-cart/ “ BabiVi (means little grand- 
father® ill Bashkirian), come in; bring some kum^’S, 
and call your old woman.” 

And ll^’ds came with his wife. Ilyds greeted the 
guests and his master, repeated a prayer, and squatted 
down by the door. But his wife went behind the cur- 
tain, and sat with her mistress.^ 

Jlyds was given a cup of kum^s. Ilyds wished the 
health of the guests and of his master, bowed, sipped 
a little, and set it down. 

“ Well, d3’edushka,” says the guest, “ I suppose 
3’ou feel rather blue looking at us, to remember 3^our 
past life, — how you used to be in luck, and how now 
3’our life is spent in sorrow? ” 

And Il^^ds smiled, and said, “ If I told you about 
my fortune and misfortune, 3’ou would not believe me. 
Better ask my baba. She is a baba, — what’s in her 
heart’s on her tongue also. She will tell you the whole 
truth about this matter.” 

And the host called to the curtain, “Well, now,® 
bdbushka, tell us what you think about your former 
luck, and your present misfortune.” 

And Sham-Shemagi spoke from behind the cur- 
tain : — 

“ This is what I think about it : My old man and I 
have lived fift^’ years. We sought for happiness, and 
. did not find it ; and now here it is two years since we 
lost every thing, and have been living out at service ; 
and we have found real happiness, and ask for nothing 
better. ’ ’ 

\ The guests were amazed ; and the khozydin was 
amazed, and even rose from his seat, lifted the curtain 

1 Qdo-zh. 3 Eibitka. ^ Dyedushka. * Khozydika. ® Nu, cMo-zh. 


102 


TEXTS FOR WOOD-CUTS. 


to look at the old woman ; and the old woman is stand »■ 
ing, with folded arms. She smiles as she looks at her 
old man, and the old man smiles back. The old wo- 
man went on, “I am speaking the truth, not jesting. 
AVe sought for happiness for half a centniy, and as 
long as we were rich we did not find it ; but now that 
we have nothing left, and have to go out to service, 
we have found such happiness that we ask for nothing 
better.” 

“ But wherein consists your happiness now? ” 

‘‘ Well, in this : while we were rich, my old man and 
I never had an hour’s rest. We never had time to talk, 
nor to think about our souls, nor to pray to God. 
There was nothing for us but care. When we had 
guests, it was a bother how to treat them, what to give 
them, so that they might not talk ill about us. Then, 
when guests went away, we had to look after our work- 
people : they must have rest, they must have enough 
to eat, and we must see to it that nothing that is ours 
gets lost. So we sinned. Then, again, care lest the 
wolf should kill a colt or a calf, or lest thieves should 
drive off our horses. You lay down to sleep, you can’t 
sleep for fear the sheep trample the lambs. You go 
out, you walk in the night : 3’ou just get yourself 
calmed down — again, care how to get food for the 
winter. Besides this, my old man and I never agreed. 
He says we must do so, and I say we must do so; and 
we begin to quarrel, w^e sin. So we lived in worry and 
care, in worry and care, and never knew the happiness 
of life.” 

“ AYell, and now? ” 

“ Now when my old man and I get up in the morn* 
ing, we alwa^^s have a talk, in love and S3mipathy we 
have nothing to quarrel aoout, nothing to worry about ; 


TEXTS FOR WOOD-CUTS. 


lOlj 

our only mre is to serve our kbozydi'n. We work 
according to our strength, we work willingly, so that 
our khozyaiii may not lose, but gain. When we come 
in, w’e have dinner, w'e have supper, we have kumys. 
If it is cold, we have our lizydk'^ to warm us, and a 
sheepskin shuba. And we have time to talk and think 
about our souls, and to pray to God. For fifty years 
we sought for happiness, and only now we have 
found it ! ” 

The guests began to laugh. 

But Ilyds said, — 

Don’t laugh, brothers : this thing is no jest, but 
human life. And the old woman and I were foolish 
when we w^ept over the loss of our property, but now 
God has revealed the truth to us ; and it is not for our 
own consolation, but for your good, that we reveal it 
to you.” 

And the IMulla said, “This is a wise saying, and 
Ilyds has told the exact truth ; and this is written also 
in the Scriptures.” 

And the guests ceased laughing, and were lost in 
thought. 

1 Kizydk, or tizydk, a Tatar word, meauing a brick made of dried dung. 


THE THREE MENDICANTS. 


1886 . 


** Rut when ye pray, use not vain repetitions, as the heathen do : for they 
think that they shall be heard for their much speaking. 

Be not ye therefore like unto them; for your Father knoweth what 
things ye have need of, before ye ask him.” — Matt. vi. 6, 7. 


A BISHOP set sail in a ship from the city of Arch- 
angel to Solovki.^ In the same ship sailed some pil- 
grims to the saints. 

The wind was favorable, the weather clear, the sea 
wms not rough. The pilgrims, as they were lying down, 
as they were lunching, as they were sitting in a crowd, 
conversed together. 

The bishop came on deck, began to walk up and down 
on the bridge. As he approaches the bow, he sees 
the people crowded together. A little muzhik is point- 
ing his hand at something in the sea, and talking ; and 
the people are listening. 

The bishop stood still, and looked in the direction 
that the miizhitchdk was pointing : nothing is to be 
seen, except the sea glistening in tlie sun. 

The bishop came closer, began to listen. When the 
muzliitclidk saw the bishop, he took off his cap, and 
stopped speaking. The people also, when they saw 
tlie bishop, took off their shapkas, and paid then 
respects. 

1 The Slovetfaky Monastery, at the mouth of the Dvina River. 

104 


THE THREE MENDICANTS. 


105 


“Don’t mind me, brothers,” said the bishop. “I 
have also come to listen to what you are saying, my 
good friend.” 

“This fisherman was telling us about some mendi- 
cants,”^ said a merchant, taking courage. 

“ What about the mendicants ?” asked the bishop, 
as he came to the gunwale, and sat down on a box. 
“ Tell me too : I should like to hear. What were you 
pointing at? ” 

“ Well, then,^ yonder’s the little island just heaving 
in sight,” said the little peasant; and he pointed 
toward the port-side. “ On that very islet, three men- 
dicants^ live, working out their salvation.” 

“ Where is the little island? ” asked the bishop. 

“ Here, look along my arm, if you please. Way 
out there, at the left of that little cloud, you can see 
it.” 

The bishop looked and looked : the water glenmed 
in the sun, and he could see nothing unusual. 

“ I don’t see it,” says he. “ What sort of m ndi- 
cants are they who live on the little island? ” 

“Hermits,”^ replied the peasant. “For a 3ong 
time I had heard tell of ’em, but I never chanced to 
see them until last summer.” 

And the fisherman again began to relate how he had 
been out fishing, and how he was driven to that island, 
and knew not where he was. In the morning he started 
to look around, and stumbled upon a little earthen hut ; 
and he found in the hut one mendicant, and then two 
others came in. They fed him, and dried him, and 
helped him repair his boat. 

“ What sort of men were they? ” asked the bishop. 

1 Stdrtsui. * Da vot. 

8 Bozbi liudi, usually the term for monks. 


106 


THE THREE MENDICANTS. 


“ One was rather small, humpbacked, very, very old ; 
he was dressed in well-worn stole ; he must have been 
more than a hundred years old ; his beard was already 
silvery white ; but he always had a smile ready, and he 
was as serene as an angel of heaven. The second was 
taller, also old, in a torn kaftan ; his long beard was 
growing a little yellowish, but he was a strong man ; 
he turned m3' boat over, — a tub, — and I didn’t even 
have to help him : he was also a jolly man. But the 
third was tall, with a long beard reaching to his knee, 
and white as the moon ; but he was gloomy ; his e3'es 
glared out from under beetling brows ; and he was 
naked, all save a plaited belt.” 

“ What did they say to 3^011? ” asked the bishop. 

“ They did every thing mostly without speaking, and 
they talked very little among themselves : one had only 
to look, and the other understood. 1 began to ask the 
tall one if the3' had lived there long. He frowned, mut- 
tered something, grew almost angry : then the little old 
man instantly seized him by the hand, smiled, and the 
large man said nothing. But the old man said, ‘ Ex- 
cuse us,’ and smiled.” 

While the peasant was speaking, the ship sailed 
nearer and nearer to the islands. 

“ There, now you can see plainly,” said the mer- 
chant. “Now please look, 3^0111’ reverence,” ^ said he, 
pointing. The bishop tried to look, and he barely 
managed to make out a black speck — the little 
island. 

The bishop gazed and gazed ; and he went from the 
bow to the stern, and he approached the helmsman. 

“ What is that little island,” says he, “ that you see 
over yonder? ” 


* Vashe preosvyashchin»tw. 


THE THREE MENDICANTS. 


107 


“ So far as I know, it hasn’t any name : good many 
of ’em here.” 

“Is it true what they say, that some mendicants live 
there ? ’ ’ 

“They say so, your reverence, but I don’t righti}' 
know. F'ishermen, they say, have seen ’em. Still, 
folks talk a good deal of nonsense.” 

“I should like to land on the little island, and see 
the mendicants,” said the bishop. “ How can I man- 
age it? ” 

“ It is impossible to go there in the sliip,” said the 
helmsman. “ You might do it in a boat, but you will 
have to ask the captain. Call the captain.” 

“ I should like to have a sight of those mendicants,” 
said the bishop. “Is it out of the question to take me 
there?” 

The captain tried to dissuade him. 

“It is possible, quite possible, but we Ghould waste 
much time ; and I take the liberty of assuring your rev- 
erence, it isn’t worth your while to see them. I have 
heard from people that those old men live like i)erfect 
stupids ; don’t understand any thing, and can’t say any 
thing, just like some sort of sea-fish.” 

“ I wish it,” said the bishop. “ I will* pay for the 
trouble, if you will take me there.” 

There rothing else to be done : the sailors 

arranged it ; the}' shifted sail. The helmsman put the 
ship about : they sailed toward the island. A chair 
was set for the bishop on the bow. He sat down and 
looked. And all the people gathered on the bow, all 
look at the little island. And those who have trust- 
worthy eyes, already see rocks on the island, and i)oint 
out the hut. And one even saw the three mendicants. 
The captain got out a spy-glass, gazed through it, 


108 


THE THREE MENDICANTS. 


handed it to the bishop : ‘‘ Exactly,’’ says he, there 
on the shore at the right, standing on a great rock, 
are three men.” 

The bishop also looked through the glass ; he sights 
where it must be ; plainly the three men are standing 
there, — one tall, the second shorter, but the third very 
short. They are standing on the shore, they cling on 
with their hands. 

The captain came to the bishop: — 

‘‘ Here, your reverence, the ship must come to an- 
chor ; if it suit you, you can be put ashore in a yawl, 
and we will anchor out here.” 

Immediately they got the tackle ready, lowered the 
anchor, furled the sails : the vessel brought up, began 
to roll. They lowered a boat, the rowers manned it, 
and the bishop began to climb down by the companion- 
way. The bishop climbed down, took his seat on the 
thwart ; the rowers lifted their oars ; they sped away 
to the island. They sped away like a stone from a 
sling : they see the three old men standing, — the tall 
one naked, with his plaited belt ; the shorter one in 
his torn kaftan ; and the little old humpbacked one, 
in his old stole, — all three are standing there, clinging 
on with their hands. 

The sailors made for shore, caught on with the boat- 
hook. The bishop got out. 

The mendicants bowed before him ; he blessed them ; 
they bowed still lower. And the bishop began to speak 
to them : — 

I heard,” says he, that you hermits were here, 
working out your salvation, followers of Christ ; that 
you worship God : and I am here by God’s grace, an 
unworthy servant of Christ, called to be a shepherd 
to his flock ; and so I desired also, if I might, to 


THE THREE MENDICANTS. 


109 


give instruction to you, who are the servants of 
God.’’ 

The mendicants made no reply : they smiled, they 
exchanged glances. 

“ Tell me how you are working out your salvation, 
and how 3’ou serve God,” said the bishop. 

The middle mendicant sighed, and looked at the 
aged one, at the venerable one : the tall stdrets frowned, 
and looked at the aged one, at the venerable one. And 
the venerable old starets smiled, and said, — 

“ Servant of God, we have not the skill to serve 
God : we only serve ourselves, getting something to 
eat.” 

“ How do you pray to God? ” asked the bishop. 

And the venerable stdrets said, ‘‘We pray thus: 
‘ You three, have mercy on us three.’ ” ^ 

And as soon as the venerable stdrets said this, all 
three of the mendicants raised their e3^es to heaven, and 
all three said, “ Trde vas., trde nas, iiromilui nas! ” 

The bishop smiled, and said, “ You have heard this 
about the Holy Trinity, but 3’ou should not pra}" so. 
I have taken a fancy to 3"ou, men of God. I see that 
you desire to please God, but you know not how to 
serve him. You should not pray so ; but listen to me, 
I will teach you. I shall not teach 3’ou my own words, 
but shall teach 3’ou from God’s scriptures how God 
commanded all people to pray to God.” 

And the bishop began to explain to the mendicants 
how God revealed himself to men. He taught them 
about God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy 
Spirit, and said, “God the Son came upon earth to 
save men, and this is the way he taught all men to 
pray : listen, and repeat after me ” — 

1 Tree vas, iroe nas, pomiViii na%J 


110 


TTIE THREE MENDICANTS. 


And the bishop began to say, ‘ ‘ Oar Father. ’ ’ And 
one stdrets repeated '‘'•Oar Father.,'’ and then the sec- 
ond repeated ‘‘ Our Father.," and the third also re- 
peated “ Oar Father." — “ Who art in heaven; " and 
the mendicants tried to repeat, “ Who art in heaven." 

But the middle mendicant mixed the words up , he 
could not repeat them so : and the tall, naked stdrets 
could not repeat them ; his lips had grown together — 
he could not speak distinctly : and the venerable, tooth- 
less stdrets could not stammer the words intelligibly. 

The bishop said it a second time : the mendicants 
repeated it again. And the bishop sat down on a little 
bowlder, and the mendicants stood about him ; and they 
looked at his lips, and they repeated it after him until 
they knew it. And all that day till evening the bishop 
labored with them ; and ten times, and twenty times, 
and a hundred times, he repeated each word, and the 
mendicants learned it by rote. And when they got 
entangled, he set them right, and made them begin all 
over again. 

And the bishop did not leave the mendicants until 
he had taught them the whole of the Lord’s Pra3’er. 
They repeated it after him, and then by themselves. 

First of all, the middle stdrets learned it, and he re- 
peated it from beginning to end ; and the bishop bade 
him say it again and again, and still again to repeat it : 
and the others also learned the whole pra^’er. 

It was already beginning to grow dark, and the moon 
began to come up out of the sea, when the bishop arose 
to go back to the ship. 

The bishop said farewell to the mendicants : they all 
bowed very low before him. He took them, and kissed 
each, bade them pray as he had taught them ; and he 
took his seat in the boat, and returned to the ship. 


THE THREE MENDICANTS. 


Ill 


And while the bishop was rowed back to the ship, he 
heard all the time how the mendicants were repeating 
the Lord’s Prayer at the top of tlieir voices. 

They returned to the ship, and here the voices of the 
mendicants was no longer heard ; but they could still 
see, in the light of the moon, the three old men stand- 
ing in the very same place on the shore, — one shorter 
than the rest in the middle, with the tall one on the 
right, and the other on the left hand. 

The bishop returned to the ship, climbed upon deck ; 
the anchor was hoisted ; the sails were spread, and 
bellied with wind ; the ship moved off, and they sailed a 
long way.' 

The bishop came to the stern, and took a seat there, 
and kept looking at the little island. At first the men- 
dicants were to be seen ; then they were hidden from 
sight, and only the island was visible ; and then the 
island went out of sight, and only the sea was left play- 
ing in the moonlight. 

The pilgrims lay down to sleep, and all was quiet 
on deck. But the bishop cared not to sleep : he sat by 
himself in the stern, looked out over the sea in the di- 
rection where the island had faded from sight, and 
thought about the good mendicants. 

He thought of how they had rejoiced in what they 
had learned in the prayer ; and he thanked God because 
he had led him to the help of the hermits, in teaching 
them the word of God. 

Thus the bishop is sitting, thinking, looking at the 
sea in the direction where the little island lay hid- 
den. And his eyes are filled with the moonlight, 
as it dances here and there on the waves. Suddenly 
he sees something shining and gleaming white in 
the track of the moon. Is it a bird, a gull, or a 


112 


THE THREE MENDICANTS. 


boat-sail gleaming white? The bishop strains his 
sight. 

“ A sail-boat, ” he thinks, “is chasing ns. Yes, it 
is catching up with us very rapidly. It was far, far 
off, but now it is close to us. But, after all, it is not 
much like a sail-boat. Anyway, something is chasing 
us, and catching up wdth us.” 

And the bishop cannot decide what it is, — a boat, or 
not a boat ; a bird, or not a bird ; a fish, or not a fish. 
It is like a man, but very great; and a mau cannot 
be in the midst of the sea. 

The bishop got up, went to the helmsman. 

“Look!” says he, “what is that? what is that, 
brother? what is it?” says the bishop. But by this 
time, he himself sees. It is the mendicants running 
over the sea. Their gray beards gleam white, and 
shine ; and they draw near the ship as though it were 
stationary. 

The helmsman looked. He was scared, dropped the 
tiller, and cried with a loud voice, — 

“ Lord ! the mendicants .are running over the sea as 
though it were dry land ! ’ ’ 

The people hear, spring up, all rush aft. All behold 
the mendicants running, clinging hand in hand. The 
end ones swing their arms : they signal to come to. 
All three run over the w’ater as though it were dry land, 
and do not move their feet. 

It was not possible to bring the ship to before the 
mendicants overtook it, came on board, raised their 
heads, and said with one voice, — 

“We have forgotten, servant of God, we have for- 
gotten what thou didst teach us. While we were learn- 
ing it, we remembered it ; but when we ceased for an 
hour to repeat it, one word slipped away ; we forgot it ; 


THE THREE MENDICANTS. 


113 


the whole was lost. We remember none of it : teach 
it to us again.” 

The bishop crossed him&elf, bowed low to the men- 
dicants, and said, — 

Acceptable to God is your prayer, ye hermits. 
It is not for me to teach you. Pray for us, sinners.” 

And the bishop bowed before the feet of the mendi- 
cants. And the mendicants paused, turned about, and 
went back over the sea. And in the morning, there 
was something seen shining in the place where the 
mendicants had come on board. 


POPULAR LEGENDS. 


1886. 


HOW THE LITTLE DEVIL EARNED A CRUST 
OF BREAD. 

A POOR miizlnk was going out to plough, though he 
had eaten no breakfast; and he took with him, from 
the house, a crust of bread. The muzhik turned over 
his plough, unfastened the bar, put it uuder the bush; 
and then he left his crust of bread, and covered it 
with his kaftan. The horse was almost dead, and the 
muzhik was very hungry. The muzhik turned over the 
plough, unhitched the horse, gave her something to eat, 
and went to his kaftan to get a bite for himself. The 
muzhik picked up his kaftan : the crust was gone. He 
hunted and hunted ; turned his kaftan inside out, shook 
it: there was no crust. The muzhik was amazed. 
“This is a marvellous thing,” he thinks. “ I haven’t 
seen any one, and yet some one has carried off my 
crust.” 

But a little devil * had stolen the crust while the 
muzhik was ploughing, and had taken his seat on a 
shrub to listen how the muzhik would swear, and call 
him, the devil, by name. 

The muzhik was disappointed. 

“Well, now,^ I am not going to die of starvation. 

* Chortyd7iok. 


114 


1 2fu da. 


POPULAR LEGENDS. 


115 


Of course, the one that took it must have needed it. 
Let him eat it, and be welcome.” 

And the muzhik went to the well, got a drink of 
water, sighed, caught his horse, harnessed her, and 
began to plough again. 

The little devil was vexed because he had not led 
the muzhik into sin, and he w^ent to tell about it to the 
biggest of the devils. He came to the bigger one, and 
told him how he had stolen the crust from the muzhik : 
instead of getting angry, he had said, “ Be welcome.” 
The big devil was angry. “Why,” says he, “ in this 
affair the muzhik has got the better of you : thou thy- 
self art to blame for it; thou wert not wise. If,” 
says he, “ muzhiks, and next to them babas, were to 
be caught by any such trick, it wouldn’t be of any use 
* for us to be in existence. It’s no use arranging the 
thing that way. Go back to the muzhik,” says he, 
“ earn the crust. If within three-years’ time thou dost 
not get the better of the muzhik. I’ll give thee a bath 
in holy water.” 

The little devil was alarmed ; ran back to earth, be- 
gan to cogitate how he might expiate his fault. He 
thought and thought, and he thought out a scheme. 

The little devil turned himself into a good man, and 
took service wdth the poor muzhik. And he advised 
the muzhik to sow corn during a summer-drought, in a 
swamp. The muzhik listened to the laborer ; sowed 
in the swamp. The other muzhiks had every thing 
burned up by the sun ; but the poor muzhik had dense, 
high, full-eared corn. The muzhik had enough to live 
on till the next year ; and even then, much corn re- 
mained. 

That year, the laborer advised the muzhik on the 
hill-side. And there came a rainy summer. * And the 


116 


POPULAR LEGENDS. 


people had sowed their corn, and sweat over it, and 
the kernels don’t fill out ; but the muzhik on^the hill- 
side had a quantity of corn ripen. And the muzhik 
still had much more corn than he needed. And the 
muzhik knows not what to do with it. 

And the laborer advised the muzhik to grind the corn, 
and distil whiskey. The muzhik distilled the whiskey ; 
began to drink himself, and gave others to drink. The 
little devil came to the big one, and began to boast 
that he had earned the crust. The big one went to 
investigate. 

He came to the muzhik’s ; sees how the muzhik has 
invited the rich men, — treated them all to whiskey. 
The khozyaika offers the whiskey to the guests. As 
soon as any one made a move to depart, she invited him 
to the table, filled a glass. The muzhik lost his temper, * 
scolded his wife. “ Look you,” says he, “you devil- 
ish fool ! What makes you slop it so? you are wasting 
such good whiskey, you bandy-legged [goose] ! ’ ’ 

The little devil poked the big one with his elbow. 
“Just look!” says he, and thinks how now he will 
not lack for crusts. 

The kliozyain was berating his wife : he himself 
began to pass round the whiskey. A poor peasant 
came in from his work. He came in without being 
invited ; he sat down ; he sees the people drinking 
whiskey. As he was weary, he also wanted to have a 
taste of the whiskey. He sat and he sat ; he kept 
swallowing his spittle, but the khozydin does not offer 
any to him. He only muttered to himself, “ Why 
must we furnish everybody with whiskey? ” 

This pleased the big devil ; but the little devil brags, 

“ Just wait a little, and see what will come of it.” 

The rich muzhiks were drinking : the khozydin also 


POPULAR LEGENDS. 


117 


drank. They all began to fawn on each other, and 
hatter each other, and to tell rather buttery and scan- 
dalous stories. The big devil listened and listened, 
and he commended him for this. ‘‘If,” says he, 
“such flattery can come from this drunkenness, then 
they will all be in our hands.” 

“ Just wait,” says the little devil, “ what more will 
come of it. There they are going to drink one little 
glass more. Now, like little foxes, they wag their 
tails at each other ; try to deceive each other ; but just 
see how, in a short time, they will be acting like fierce 
wolves.” 

The muzhiks drained their glasses once more, and 
their talk became louder and rougher. In place of 
buttery speeches, they began to indulge in abuse : they 
began to get angry, and tweak each other’s nose. 
The khozy/iin also took part in the squabble. Even 
him they beat unmercifully. 

The big devil looked on, and praised him for this 
also. “ This,” says he, “ is good.” 

But the little devil says, “ Just wait ! See what more 
will happen. Let them take a third drink. Now they 
are as mad as wolves : but give them time, let them 
drink once more; the}’ will instantly act like hogs.” 

The muzhiks drank for the third time. They began 
to get altogether lazy. They themselves have no idea 
what they stammer or shriek, and they talk all at 
once. They started to go home, each in his own way, 
or in groups of tw’o and three. They all fall in the 
gutter. The khozyain went to see his guests out : he 
fell on his nose in a pool ; got all smeared ; lies there 
like a boar, — grunts. 

This delights the big devil still more. “Well,”* 


1 Nu. 


118 


POPULAR LEGENDS. 


says he, “ this scheme of drunkenness was good. Thou 
hast earned thy crust. Now tell me,” says he, “ how 
didst thou think of this scheme ? Thou must have put 
into it some fox’s blood, in the first place ; that was 
what made the muzhik keen : and then some wolf’s 
blood ; that was what made him fierce as a wolf : and 
finally, of course, thou didst add swine’s blood ; that 
made him like a hog.” 

“ No,” says the little devil, “ I did nothing of the 
sort. I only made it out of all that is useless in corn. 
This wild blood always exists in it, but has no way of 
getting out when the corn is properly used. At first 
he did not grudge his lost crust ; but, as soon as he 
began to have a superfluity of corn, he began to scheme 
how he might amuse himself. And I taught him the 
fun, — whiskey-drinking. And as soon as he began to 
distil God’s gift for his fun, the blood of the fox and 
the wolf and the hog began to show itself. Now all 
he needs, to be always a beast, is to keep on drinking 
whiskey.” 

The chief of the devils forgave him the crust of 
bread, and made him one of his staff. 


THE REPENTANT SINNER. 

“And he said unto Jesus, Lord, remember me when thou coraest into 
thy kingdom. 

And Jesus said unto him. Verily I say unto thee. To day shalt thou be 
with me in paradise.” — Luke xxiii. 42, 43. 

Once there lived on earth a man seventy years old, 
and he had spent his whole life in sin. And this man 
fell ill, and did not make confession. And when death 
came, at the last hour he wept, and cried, “ Lord, for- 
give me as thou didst the thief on the cross.” He had 
barely spoken these words, when his soul fled. And 


POPULAR LEGENDS. 


119 


the sinner’s soul loved God, and believed in his mercy, 
and came to the doors of paradise. 

And the sinner began to knock, and ask admission 
to the kingdom of heaven. 

And he heard a voice from within the doors, “What 
manner of man kuocketh at the doors of paradise? 
and what have been the deeds done by this man in his 
life?” 

And the voice of the accuser replied, and rehearsed 
all the sinful deeds of this man. And he did not men- 
tion one good deed. 

And the voice from within the doors replied, “ Sin- 
ners cannot enter into the kingdom of heaven. Get 
thee hence ! ” 

And the man said, “ Lord, I hear thy voice ; but I 
see not thy face, and I know not thy name.” 

And the voice replied, “ I am Peter the Apostle.” 

And the sinner said, “Have pity upon me, Peter 
Apostle ! Remember human weakness and God’s 
mercy. Wert thou notone of Christ’s disciples? and 
didst thou not hear from his very lips his teaching? 
and hast thou not seen the example of his life? And 
remember, when he was in sorrow, and his soul was 
cast down, and thrice he asked thee to watch with him 
and pray, and thou didst sleep, for thy eyes were heavy, 
and thrice he found thee sleeping. So it was with 
me. 

“And remember, also, how thou didst promise him 
not to deny him till death, and how thrice thou didst 
deny him when they took him before Caiaphas. So it 
was with me. 

“ And remember, also, how the cock crew, and thou 
didst go out and weep bitterly. So it is with me. It 
is impossible for thee not to forgive me.” 


120 


POPULAR LEGENDS. 


And the voice from within the doors of paradise 
was silent. 

And, after waiting, the sinner began again to knock, 
and to demand entrance into the kingdom of heaven. 

And a second voice was heard within the doors ; and 
it said, “ Who is this man, and how did he live on 
earth?” 

And the voice of the accuser again rehearsed all 
the sinner’s evil deeds, and mentioned no good deeds. 

And the voice from within the doors replied, “ Get 
thee gone ! sinners like thee cannot live with us in 
paradise.” 

And the sinner said, “ Lord, I hear th}" voice ; but 
I see not thy face, and I know not thy name.” 

And the voice replied, “1 am David, the king and 
prophet.” 

And the sinner did not despair, did not depart from 
the doors of paradise, but began to say, “ Have mercy 
upon me, tsar David, and remember human weakness 
and God’s mercy. God loved thee, and magnified 
thee before the people. Thou hadst everything, — a 
kingdom and glory and wealth, and wives and children ; 
and yet thou didst see from tiiy roof a poor man’s wife ; 
and sin came upon thee, and thou didst take Uriah’s 
wife, and thou didst kill him by the sword of the Am- 
monites. Thou, a rich man, didst take the poor man’s 
lamb, and kill the man himself. This was exactly 
what I did. 

“And remember next how thou didst repent, and 
say, ‘ I acknowledge my sin, and am grieved because 
of my transgressions.’ So did I also. It is impos- 
sible for thee not to forgive me.” 

And the voice within the doors was silent. 

And after waiting a little, yet again the sinner 


POPULAR LEGENDS. 


121 


knocked, and demanded entrance into the kingdom of 
heaven. 

And a third voice was heard from behind the doors ; 
and it said, “ Get thee gone ! Sinners cannot enter 
into the kingdom of heaven.’" 

And the sinner replied, “I hear thy voice; but thy 
face I see not, and thy name I know not.” 

And the voice replied, “ I am John the theologian, 
the beloved disciple of Christ.” 

And the sinner rejoiced, and said, “ Now I must 
surel}' be forgiven : Peter and David w^ould admit me 
because the}’ know human weakness and God’s mercy. 
But thou admittest me because thou hast much love. 
Hast thou not written, John the theologian, in thy book, 
that God is love, and that whoever doth not love 
knoweth not God? And didst thou not in thy old age 
constantly say one single word to people, — ‘Brothers, 
love one another’? How, then, canst thou hate me 
and reject me ? Either deny thy saying, or show love 
unto me, and let me into the kingdom of heaven.” 

And the gates of paradise opened ; and John re- 
ceived the repentant sinner, and let him come into the 
kingdom of heaven. 


A SEED AS BIG AS A HEN’S EGG. 

Some children once found in a cave something re- 
sembling a hen’s egg, with a groove about the middle, 
and like a seed. A passer-by saw the children playing 
with it, bought it for a p’yatak,^ took it to the city, and 
gave it to the tsar as a curiosit}’. 

The tsar summoned his wise men, commanded them 
to decide what kind of a thing it was, — an egg, or a 

1 A copper piece worth five kopeks. 


122 


POP ULAR LE G ENDS. 


seed? Tlie wise men cogitated, cogitated — theyconld 
not give an answer. This thing was lying in the win- 
dow ; and a hen flew in, began to peck at it, and 
pecked a hole in it; and all knew that it was a seed. 
The wise men went to the tsar, and said, ‘‘ This is — 
a rye-seed.” 

The tsar marvelled. He commanded the wise men 
to find out where and when this seed grew. The wise 
men cogitated, cogitated : they hunted in books — 
they found no explanation. They came to the tsar ; 
they say, “ We cannot give an answer. In our books, 
there is nothing written about this : we must ask the 
muzhiks whether some one of their elders has not heard 
tell of when and where such a seed is sowed.” 

Tlie tsar sent, and commanded an old starik ^ of a 
muzhik to be brought before him. They discovered an 
old stdrik, and brought him to the tsar. The green, 
toothless starik came in : he w^alked with difficulty on 
two crutches. 

The tsar showed him the seed : but the starik was 
almost blind, as it w^ere ; he judges of it, partly by 
looking at it, partly by fumbling it in his hands. 

The tsar began to ask him questions: “Dost thou 
not know, dy^dushka, where such a seed grows? Hast 
thou never sowed any such kind of grain in thy field ? 
or didst thou never in thy life purchase any such seed ? ” 

The stdrik was stupid : he could barely, barely hear, 
barely, barely understand. He began to make reply : 
“ No,” says he, “I never sowed any such grain in my 
field, and I never harvested any such, and I never 
bought an}" such. When we bought grain, all such seed 
was small. But,” says he, “3"ou must ask my bdtiush- 
ka: maybe he’s heard tell where such seed grew.” 


1 Old man. 


POPULAR LEGENDS. 


123 


The tsar sent for the stdrik’s father, and bade him 
to be brought before him. The ancient stdrik hobbled 
in on one crutch. The tsar began to show him the seed. 
The old man could still see with his eyes. He sees 
very well. The tsar began to question him : — 

“ Dost thou not know, my dear old mau,^ where this 
seed can have grown? Hast thou never sowed such 
grain in thy field? or didst thou never in thy life pur- 
chase such seed anywhere? ” 

Though the stdrik was rather hard of hearing, still he 
heard better than his son. “ No,” says he, “I never 
sowed such seed in my field, and I never harvested any ; 
and I never bought any, because in my day there 
wasn’t any money anywhere ; we all lived on grain ; 
and when it w'as necessary, we went shares with one 
another. I don’t know where such seed is grown. 
Though our seed was much larger and more productive 
than that of nowadays, still, I never saw such as this. 
But I have heard from my batiushka, that, in his day, 
corn grew much higher than it does now, and was fuller, 
and had larger kernels. You must ask him.” 

The tsar sent for this old man’s father. And they 
brought the grandfather also. They brought him to 
the tsar. The stdrik came before the tsar without 
crutches : he walked easily ; his eyes were brilliant ; 
he heard well, and spoke understandingly. 

The tsar showed the seed to the old man. The old 
man looked at it. The old man turned it over and 
over. “ It is long,” says he, “ since I have seen such 
a kernel.” The grandfather bit off a piece : he wanted 
a little more. 

“It’s the very thing,” says he. 

“Tell me, dy4dushka, where and when this kind of 

1 Starichok. 


124 


POPULAR LEGENDS. 


seed grows ? Didst thou never sow such grain in thy 
field ? Or didst thou never in thy life buy any such 
among people? ” 

And the stdrik said, “ Such grain as this used to 
grow eveiTwhere in my da}'. On such grain as this, 
I have lived all my life,” says he, “ and fed my peo- 
ple. This seed I have sowed and reaped, and had 
ground.” 

And the tsar asked, saying, “ Tell me, dy^dushka, 
didst thou buy such seed anywhere ? or didst thou sow 
it in thy field ? ’ ’ 

The stdrik laughed. 

“ In my time,” says he, “ no one had ever conceived 
such a sin as to buy and sell grain. And they did not 
know about money. There was abundance of bread 
for all.” 

And the tsar asked, saying, “Tell me, dy4dushka, 
when didst thou sow such grain, and where was thy 
field?” 

And the grandfather said, “ My field was — God’s 
earth. Wherever there was tillage, there was my field. 
The earth was free. There was no such thing as 
private ownership. They only laid claim to their 
w'ork.” 

“ Tell me,” says the tsar, — “ tell me two things 
more : one thing. Why did such seed used to spring up, 
and now doesn’t? And the second thing. Why does 
thy grandson walk on two crutches, and thy son on one 
crutch, but here thou goest with perfect ease — and thy 
eyes are bright, and thy teeth strong, and thy speech 
plain and clear? Tell me, dj'edushka, why these things 
are so ? ” 

And the stdrik said, “These two things both came 
about because men have ceased to live by their own 


POPULAR LEGENDS. 


125 


work — and they have begun to hanker after foreign 
things. We did not live so in old times : in old times 
we lived for God. We had our own, and did not lust 
after others’.’* 


DOES A MAN NEED MUCH LAND? 

I. 

An elder sister came from the city, to visit her sister 
in the country. The elder was a city merchant’s wife ; 
the younger, a country muzhik’s. The two sisters are 
tea-di inking and talking. The older sister began to 
boast — to praise up her life in the city : how she lives 
in a large and elegant mansion, and has her horses, and 
how she dresses her children, and what rich things she 
has to eat and drink, and how she goes to drive, and 
to walk, and to the theatre. 

The younger sister felt affronted, and began to de- 
preciate the life of a merchant, and to set forth the 
advantages of her own, — that of the peasant. 

“ I wouldn’t exchange my life for yours,” sa^'s she. 
“ Granted that w^e live coarsely, still we don’t know 
what fear is. You live more elegantly' ; but you have 
to sell a great deal, else you find yourselves entirely 
sold. And the proverb runs, ‘ Loss is Gain’s bigger 
brother.’ It also happens, to-day j’ou’re rich, but 
to-morrow you’re a beggar.^ But our muzhiks’ affairs 
are more reliable ; the muzhik’s life is meagre, but long ; 
we may not be rich, but we have enough.” 

The elder sister began to say, “ Enough, — I should 
think so ! like pigs and calves ! No fine dresses, no 
good society. How your khozyai'n works ! how you 
live in the dung-hill ! and so you will die, and it will 
be the same thing with your children.” 

* Literally, find thyself under the windowa. 


1‘26 


POPULAR LEGENDS. 


‘‘Indeed,”^ says the younger, “ our affairs are all 
right. We live well. We truckle to no one, we stand in 
fear of no one. But you in the city all live in the midst 
of temptations : to-day it’s all right ; but to-morrow up 
comes some improper person, I fear, to tempt you, and 
tempts your khozyaiu either to cards, or to wine, or to 
women. And every thing goes to ruin. Isn’t it so? ” 

Pakhom, the khozyain, was listening on the oven, 
as the babas disputed. 

“ That’s true,” says he, “ the veritable truth.” As 
our brother from childhood had been turning up the 
matiushka earth, so folly [stays in] his head, and does 
not depart. His one trouble is, — so little land. “ If 
I had only as much land as I wanted, I shouldn’t be 
afraid of any one — even of the Devil.” 

The babas drank their tea, talked about clothes, put 
away the dishes, w^ent to bed. 

But the Devil was sitting behind the oven : he heard 
every thing. He was delighted because the peasant- 
woman induced her husband to boast with her : he had 
boasted, that, if he had land enough, the Devil could 
not get him ! 

“All right,” he thinks: “thou and I’ll have to 
fight it out. I will give thee a lot of land. I’ll get 
thee through the land.” 


II. 

There lived next the muzhiks a petty land-owner.^ 
She had one hundred and twenty desyatins ^ of land. 
And she used to live peaceably with the muzhiks — did 
not affront them. But a retired soldier engaged him- 
self as her overseer,^ and he began to persecute the 


^ A chto-zh. 2 Barninkn, gracious lady. 

* Three hundred and twenty four acres. * Prikduhchik. 


POPULAR LEGENDS. 


127 


innzhiks with fines. No matter how careful Pakhom 
was, either his horse would trample down the oats, or 
his cow would wander into the garden, or his calves 
would get into the meadows : there was a fine for ever5 
thing. 

Pakhom pays the fines, and scolds and beats the 
domestics. And during the summer Pakhom falls into 
many a sin on account of this prikashchik. And still 
he was glad that he had cattle in his dvor : though he 
was hard up for fodder, he was in no apprehension. 

During the winter, the rumor spread that the 
baruina was going to sell her land, and her dvornik 
had made arrangements to buy it at a great price. 

The muzhiks heard it, and groaned. 

Now,” think they, “ the land will belong to the 
dvornik : he will make us pay worse fines than the 
baruina did. It is impossible for us to live without 
this laud. All of us around here live on it.” 

The muzhiks went to the baruina in a body, began 
to beg her not to sell the land to the dvornik, but to 
let them have it. They promised to pay a higher price. 

The baruina agreed. The muzhiks tried to arrange 
as a mir, to buy all the laud. Once, twice, they 
collected in meeting, but there was a hitch in affairs. 
The Devil puts them at variance : they are utterly un- 
able to come to any agreement. 

And the muzhiks determined to purchase the land 
individually, according to the ability of each. And 
the baruina agreed to this also. 

Pakhom heard that a neighbor had bought twenty 
desydtins ^ from the baruina, and that she had given 
him a year in which to pay her half of the money. 
Pakhom was envious. “They will buy all the laud,” 

* Fifty-four acres. 


128 


POPULAR LEGENDS. 


be says to himself, “ and I shall be behind them/* 
He began to reason with his wife. 

“The people are buying it up,” says he. “We 
must buy ten desydtins too. It’s impossible to live 
this way : the prikdshchik was eating us up with 
fines.” 

They cogitated how to buy it. They had laid up a 
hundred rubles ; then they sold a colt, and half their 
bees ; and they apprenticed their son, and the}’ got 
some more from their sister-in-law ; and thus they col- 
lected half of the money. 

Pakhom gathered up the money, selected fifteen 
desydtins of land with wood-land on it, and went to 
the baruina to make the purchase. He bought fifteen 
desydtins, struck a bargain, and paid down the earnest- 
money. They went to the city, ratified the purchase ; 
he paid down half of the money ; the remainder he binds 
himself to pay in two years. 

And Pakhom now had his land. Pakhom took seed, 
and sowed the land that he had bought. In a single 
year he paid up the debt to the baruina and his brother- 
in-law. And Pakhom became a proprietor.^ He 
ploughed all his land, and sowed it ; he made hay on 
his own land ; he cut stakes on his own land, and on 
his own land he pastured cattle. Pakhom rides out 
over his wide fields to plough, or he takes note of his 
crops, or he gazes at his meadows. And yet he is not 
happy. The grass seems to him to be wasted, and the 
flowers flowering in it seem entirely different. Formerly 
he used to ride over this land,- — the land as land ; but 
now the laud began to be absolutely peculiar. 


* Pomyeshchik. 


POPULAR LEGENDS. 


129 


III. 

Thus lives Pakhom, and rejoices. All would have 
been good, only the muzhiks began to trespass on his 
grain and meadows. He begged them to refrain : they 
do not stop it. Now the cow-boys let the cows into 
the meadow : now the horses escape from the night- 
guard into his corn-field. 

And Pakhom drove them out, and forgave it, and 
never went to law : then he got tired of it, and tried 
going to the volost-court.^ And he knows that the 
muzhiks do it from carelessness, and not from malice ; 
but he thinks, “It is impossible to overlook it, other- 
wise they’ll always be pasturing their cattle there. 
We must teach them a lesson.” 

He thus taught them in court once ; he taught them 
twice : first one was fined, then another. The muzhiks, 
Pakhom’s neighbors, began to harbor spite against him. 
Once more they began to trespass, and this time on 
l)urpose. Some one got into his wood-land by night. 
They cut down a dozen of his lindens for basts. Pa- 
khom went to his grove, saw [what had been done], 
turns pale. Some one had been there : the linden- 
branches lie scattered about, the stumps stand out. 
Out of the clump he had cut down the last, the rascal 
had cleaned it all out : only one was left standing. 

Pakhom fell into a rage. “ Akh ! ” thinks he, “ if I 
onl}’ knew who did that, I would give him a kneading.” 

He thought, he thought, “ Who [could it be] ? ” 

“ No one more likely,” thinks he, “ than Semyon.” 

He went to Semka’s dvor ; he found nothing : they 
only exchanged some quarrelsome words. And Pa- 
khom felt still more certain that Semyon had done it. 

1 The volost is a district including several villages. 


130 


POPULAR LEGENDS, 


He entered a complaint. They took it into court. 
They had suit after suit. The muzhik was acquitted : 
no proof. Pakhom was still rnore affronted : he got 
incensed at the starshind and at the judges. 

“You,” sa3’s he, “are on the side of a pack of 
thieves. If you were decent men, you wouldn’t acquit 
thieves.” 

Pakhom quarrelled, both with the judges and with 
his neighbors. They began even to threaten him with 
the “red rooster.”^ Pakhom had come to live on a 
broader scale on his farm, but with more constraint 
in the commune. 

And about this time the rumor spread, that the peo- 
ple were going to new places. And Pakhom thinks, 
“ There is no reason for me to go from my land ; but 
if any of our [neighbors] should go, it would enable 
me to branch out more. I would take their land for 
m3'self ; I would get it around here : life would be 
much better, for now it is too confined.” 

Pakhom is sitting at home one time : a wandering 
muzhik comes along. They let the muzhik have a 
night’s lodging; they give him something to eat; the3^ 
enter into conversation : “ Whither, please, is God 
taking you? ” 

The muzhik says that he is on his way down from 
the Volga, where he had been at work. The muzhik 
relates, a word at a time, how the people had gone 
colonizing there. lie relates how tho3" settled there, 
made a community, and gave each soul ten desydtins 
of land. “But the laud is such,” sa3's he, “that 
they sowed lye. Such stalks — the horses never saw 
the like — so thick ! five handfuls made a sheaf. One 
muzhik,” says he, “was perfectl3' poor — came with 

* The picturesque llussiuu metaphor for a conflagration. 


POPULAR LEGENDS. 


131 


his hands alone — and now he has six horses and two 
cows.’' 

Pakhom’s heart burned within him : he thinks, 
“ Why remain here in straitened circumstances, when 
it is possible to live well ? I will sell my land and dvor 
here ; then with the money that I get, I will start anew, 
and have a complete establishment. But here in these 
narrow quarters — it’s a sin. Only I must find out 
for myself.” 

lie packed up for a year ; started. From Samara 
he sailed down the Volga in a steamboat, then he went 
on foot four hundred versts. He reached the place. It 
was just so. The muzhiks live on a generous scale, ^ 
on farms of ten desyatins each, and they are glad of 
accessions to their society. “And if any one has a 
little money, you can buy for three rubles as much of 
the very best land as you wish, besides his allotment. 
You can buy just as much as you wish.” 

Pakhom made his investigations ; in the autumn re- 
turned home, began to sell out every thi^g. He sold 
his land to advantage, sold his dvor, sold all his cattle, 
withdrew his name from the Community, waited till 
spring, and moved with his family to the new place. 

IV. 

Pakhom came with his family to the new place, en- 
rolled himself in a large village. He treated the 
elders,-^ arranged all the papers. Pakhom was ac- 
cepted : he was allotted, as for five persons, fifty des- 
yatins® of the land to be distributed, located in different 
fields, all except the pasturage. Pakhom settled down. 
He got cattle. He had three times, as much land as 


^ Prostorno, roomily. * Sldriki. 

8 One hundred and thirty-five acres. 


132 


POPULAR LEGENDS. 


he had had before, and the land was fertile. Life was 
tenfold better than what it had been in the old time ; 
had all the arable land and fodder that he needed. 
Keep as many cattle as yon like. 

At first, while he was getting settled, and putting his 
house in order, Pakhom was well pleased, got to feel 
at home ; then it seemed rather narrow quarters. 

The first year Pakhom sowed wheat on one allotment : 
it came up well. He was anxious to sow wheat ; but 
he had little land for the purpose, and such as he has 
is of no good. Wheat is sowed there on grass or 
fallow land. They sow it one year, two years, and let 
it lie fallow till the grass comes up again. And in 
such laud, there are many sportsmen ; but they don’t 
bag game on all. 

Quarrels also arose ; one was richer than another : 
they all wanted to sow, but the poorer ones had to 
resort to merchants for loans. 

Pakhom was anxious to sow as much as possible. 
The next year he went to a merchant : he hired land 
for a year. He sowed more : it came up well. It was 
a long way from the village : he had to go fifteen 
versts. He sees how muzhik-merchants live in fine 
mansions, and are rich. “That’s the thing,” thinks 
Pakhom. “ If only I could buy the land, then I 
would have a mansion. It would all be in one piece.” 

And Pakhom began to cogitate how he might get a 
perpetual title. 

Thus Pakhom lived three 3’ears. He hired land, 
sowed wheat. The years were good ones, and the 
wheat grew well, and a store of mone}^ was laid away. 

As life passed, it became every year irksome to 
Pakhom to buy land with the men, to waste time over 
it. Where an estate is pretty good, the muzhiks 


POPULAR LEGENDS. 


133 


instantly fly to it, divide it all up. He was always too 
late to buy cheap, and he had nothing to sow on. But 
in the third year, he bought, on shares with a mer- 
chant, a pasturage of the muzhiks ; and they had 
already ploughed it. The muzhiks had been at law 
about it, and so the work was lost. “ If I owned the 
land,” he thinks, “ I should not truckle to any one; 
and it would not be a sin.” 

And Pakhom began to inquire where he might buy 
land in perpetuity. And he struck upon a muzhik. 
The muzhik had for sale five hundred desyatins ; ^ 
and, as he was anxious to get rid of it, he sells at a 
bargain. , 

Pakhom began to dicker with him. He argues, 
argues. He agrees to sell for fifteen hundred rubles, 
half the money on mortgage. They had already come 
to an agreement, when a pedler happens along, and 
asks Pakhom to let him have a little something to eat. 

They drank a cup of tea : they entered into conver- 
sation. 

The pedler relates that he is on his way from the 
distant Bashkirs. “There,” says he, “I bought of 
the Bashkirs fifteen hundred desydtins of land ; and I 
had to pay only a thousand rubles.” 

Pakhom began to ask questions. The pedler told 
him [the whole story]. 

“ All I did,” sa3'S he, “ was to satisfy the old men. 
I distributed some dressing-gowns and carpets, worth 
a hundred rubles, besides a chest of tea; and I gave 
a little wine to those who drank. And I got it for 
twenty kopeks a desydtin.” — He exhibited the title- 
deed. — “The land,” says he, “is by a little river, 
and the steppe is all covered with grass.” 

1 Thirteen hundred and fifty acres. 


POPULAR LEGENDS. 


lU 

Pakhom began to ask more questions, — IIow and 
who ? 

“The land,” says the merchant, — “yon wouldn’t 
go round it in a year, — it’s all Bashkirian. And the 
people are as stupid as rams. You could almost get 
it for nothing.” 

“ Now,” thinks Pakhom, “ why should I spend my 
thousand rubles for five hundred desydtins, and hang 
a burden of debt around my neck beside? But there, 
how much I could get for a thousand rubles ! ” 

V. 

Pakhom asked how he went ; and, as soon as he said 
good-by to the pedler, he determined to go. He left 
his house in his wife’s care, took his man, and started. 
When they reached the city, he bought a chest of tea, 
gifts, wine, just as the merchant said. They trav- 
elled, travelled: they travelled five hundred versts^ 
away. On the seventh da}" they eame to the range 
of the Bashkirs. It was all just as the merchant had 
said. They all live in the steppe, along a little river, 
in felt-covered kibitki. They themselves do not 
plough : they eat no bread. And their cattle graze 
along the steppe, and their horses are in droves. Be- 
hind the kibitki the colts are tied, and twice a day 
they bring the mares to them. They milk the mares, 
and make kumys out of the milk. The babas churn 
the kumys, and make cheese ; and the muzhiks only 
know how to drink kumj’s and tea, to eat mutton, and 
play on the clddki.^ All are polite, jolly : they keep 
festival all summer. The people are very dark, and 
can’t speak Russian, but are affable. 

As soon as the Bashkirs saw Pakhom, they came 

1 Three huudreil and thirty nailea. * lieed pipes. 


POPULAR LEGENDS. 


135 


forth from their kibitki : they surrounded their guest. 
The interpreter made his acquaintance. Pakhom told 
him that he had come to see about land. The Bashkirs 
were delighted, took him to a fine kibitka, spread rugs, 
gave him a down-cushion to sit on, sat round him, 
began to treat him to tea, kumys. They slaughtered 
a ram, and gave him mutton. 

Pakhom fetched from his tarantds his gifts, began 
to distribute them among the Bashkirs. 

Pakhom gave the Bashkirs his gifts, and divided the 
tea. The Bashkirs were overjoyed. They jabbered, 
jabbered together, then commanded the interpreter to 
speak. 

“ They bid me tell thee,” says the interpreter, 
“that they have taken a fancy to thee; and that we 
have a custom of doing every thing possible to gratify 
a guest, and repay him for his gifts. Thou hast given 
to us. Now tell what thou wishest among our posses- 
sions, m order that we may give it thee.” 

“ Above all else that you have,” says Pakhom, “ I 
would like some of your land. In my country,” 
saj’s he, “ there is a scarcity of land. The land is 
cultivated to death. But 3*011 have much land, and 
good land. I never saw the like.” 

The interpreter translated for him. The Bashkirs 
talked, talked. Pakhom understands not what they 
sa}" ; but he sees that they are good-natured, that they 
are talking at the top of their voices, laughing. Then 
they relapsed into silence, look at Pakhom ; and the 
interpreter says, — 

“ They bid me tell thee, that, in return for thy kind- 
ness, they are happy to give thee as much land as thou 
wishest. Only show us thy hand — it shall be thine.” 

They still were talking, and began to dispute angrily. 


13G 


POPULAR LEGENDS. 


And Pakhom asked what they were quarrelling about. 
And the interpreter replied, “Some say that they 
ought to ask the starshina, and that without his con- 
sent it is impossible. And others say that it can be 
done without the chief.” 

VI. 

The Bashkirs are quarrelling : suddenly a man comes 
in a fox-skin shapka. 

They become silent, and all stood up. And the in- 
terpreter says, “ This is the starshind himself.” 

Instantly Pakhom got out his best dressing-gown, 
and gave it to the starshina, together with five pounds 
of tea. 

The starshind accepted it, and sat down in the chief 
plaee. And immediately the Bashkirs began to tell 
him all about it. 

The starshina listened, listened ; nodded his head, in 
sign of silence for all, and began to speak to Pakhom 
in Russian.^ 

“ Well,” says he, “ it can be done. Take it when 
you please. Plenty of land.” 

“ 1 shall get as much as I want,” thinks Pakhom. 
“ I must secure it right away, else they’ll say it’s mine, 
and then take it away.” 

“I thank you,” says he, “for j^our kind words. 
I have seen that j^ou have much land, and I need not 
very much. Only you must let me know what shall 
be mine. As soon as possible you must have it 
measured off and secured to me. And it must be as 
real estate. You good people make the grant, but the 
time may come when your children will take it away.” 

“You are right,” says the starshind; “we must 
secure it.” 


1 PoRussku 


POPULAR LEGLNDS. 


ni 


Pakhom began to speak : “ I have heard that a mer- 
chant was here with you. You also gave him land, 
and struck a bargain. I should like to dc the same.” 

The starshina understood perfectly. 

“This can all be done,” says he. “We have a 
clerk ; and we will go to the city, and will all put on 
our seals.” 

“ And the price will be, how much? ” asks Pakhom. 

“ We have one price : one thousand rubles^ a d’yea.” 

Pakhom did not understand. “ What is this meas- 
ure, the d’y4n? How many desy^tins are there in it?” 

“We can’t reckon it,” says he. “But we sell it 
by the d’y^n : ^ all that 3’ou can go round in a day, — 
that is yours ; and the price of a d’y4n is one thousand 
rubles.” 

Pakhom was astonished: “Look here,” says he. 
“ What I can go round in a day is a good deal of 
land! ” 

The starshind laughed. “ It’s all yours,” says he. 
“Only one stipulation : if you don’t come back within 
the day to the place from which you start, your money 
is lost.” 

“ But how,” says Pakhom, “ can I mark when I am 
going?” 

“Well, we’ll stand on the place where it pleases you ; 
we will be standing there : and you shall go and draw 
the circle, and take with you a hoe, and make a mark 
wherever you please ; at the edges dig a little hole, put 
some turf in it : and we will go over it, from hole to 
hole, with the plough. Take whatever you wish for a 
circuit, only at sunset you must be back at that place 
from which you set out. All that you encircle is 
yours.” 


1 Eight hundred and sixty dollars. 


2 Day. 


138 


POPULAR LEGENDS. 


Pakhom was delighted. They agreed to go out all 
together. The}’ talked it over, drank still more kiim} s, 
ate the mutton, drank some more tea. It approached 
nightfall. The Bashkirs arranged for Pakhom to sleep 
in a down-bed, and they separated. They agreed to 
come together at sunrise the next day, at the sound of 
the gun-shot. 

VII. 

Pakhom lies in his down-bed ; and there is no sleep- 
ing for him, all on account of thinking of his land. 

“ I will go over the whole prairie. I can go over 
fifty versts in one day. A day now is worth a year. 
There’ll be a good deal of land in a circle of fifty 
versts. I will sell off the worst parts, or let it to the 
muzhiks ; and I will pick out what I like, and I will 
settle on it. I will have a two-ox plough, and I 
will take two men as laborers. I will plough in 
fifty desyatins, and 1 will pasture my cattle on the 
rest. ’ ’ 

Pakhom did not get a wink of sleep all night. Just 
before dawn he dropped into a doze. He seems to see 
himself lying in this very same kibitka, and listen- 
ing to somebod}’ cackling outside. And it seemed to 
him that he wanted to see what was the fun ; and he 
got up, went out of the kibitka, and lo ! that very 
same Bashkirian starshind is sitting in front of the 
kibitka, and is holding his sides, and roaring and cack- 
ling about something. 

He went out, and asked, “What are you laughing 
at?” And he sees that it is no longer the starshina 
of the Bashkirs, but the pedler who had come to him 
and told him about the land. 

And as soon as he saw that it was the pedler, he 
asked, “ Have you been here long? ” 


POPULAR LEGENDS. 


139 


And then it was no longer the pecller, hut that 
muzhik who had come down the Volga so long ago. 

And Pakhom sees that it isn’t the muzhik either, but 
the Devil himself, with horns and hoofs, sitting and 
laughing ; and before him is lying a man barefooted, 
in shirt and drawers. And Pakhom looked more at- 
tentively to find out who the man was. 

And he sees that the dead man is none other than — 
himself ! Pakhom was frightened, and woke up. 

He woke up. 

“What was I dreaming about?” he asks himself. 
He looks around, he peers out of the closed door: 
it was already getting light, day was beginning to 
dawn. 

“ The people must be getting up,” he thinks : “ it's 
time to start.” 

Pakhom arose, aroused his man in the tarantds, told 
him to harness up, and then went to arouse the Bash- 
kirs. 

“Time,” sa3’s he, “to go out on the steppe, to 
measure it off.” 

The Bashkirs got up, all collected : and the starshind 
came forth. The Bashkirs again began by drinking 
kumys : they wished Pakhom to treat them to tea, but 
he was not inclined to delay. 

“ If we go — time to go now,” sa3’s he. 

VIII. 

The Bashkirs made ready ; some were on horseback, 
some in carts ; ^ they started. And Pakhom rode 
with his man in their tarantdsika^ and took with him 
a hoe. They rode out into the steppe : the dawn was 
beginning. They reached a mound — shikhan in 


* Tarantdrui. 


140 


POPULAR LEGENDS. 


Bashkiria!!. They descended from their carts, dis- 
mounted from their horses, collected in a crowd. The 
starshinA came to Pakhom, pointed with his hand. 

“ Here,” says he, “all is ours, as far as you can 
see. Take what you desire.” 

Pakhom’s eyes burn. The whole region is grassy, 
level as the palm of your hand, black as a pot ; and 
where there was a hollow, it was filled with grass as 
high as one’s breast. 

The starshind took off his fox-skin cap,^ laid it on 
the ground. 

“Here,” says he, “ is the spot. Start from here, 
come back here. All that you go round shall be 
yours.” 

Pakhom took out his money, laid it in the shapka ; 
took off his kaftan, stood in his blouse ^ alone ; girded 
himself around the belly with his sash, pulled it 
tighter ; hung round his neck a little bag with bread, 
put a little flask with water in his belt, tightened his 
leg-wrappers, took the hoe from his man, got ready 
to start. 

He pondered and pondered on which side to take it : 
it was good everywhere. 

He thinks, “ It’s all one : I will go toward the sun- 
rise.” 

He turned his face toward the sun ; starts, waits till 
it rises above the horizon. 

He thinks, “ I must not waste any time. It’s cool, 
and easier to walk.” 

As soon as the sunlight gushed out over the hori- 
zon, he threw his hoe over his shoulder, and started 
out on the steppe. 

Pakhom proceeded neither slow nor fast. He went 

* Shapka. 2 Poddyovka, a sort of half kaftan. 


' POPULAR LEGENDS. 


141 


about a verst he halted, he dug a little pit, piled 
the turf in it, so that it might attract attention. 

He went farther. As he went on, he quickened his 
pace. As he kept going on, he dug otlier little pits. 

Pakliom looked around. The shikhan was still in 
sight in the sun, and the people are standing on it : the 
tires on the tarantas- wheels glisten. Pakhoin conjec- 
tures that he has been five versts. lie began to get 
warm : he took off his blouse, threw it over his shoulder, 
went on. It grew hot. He looked at the sun.^ It 
was already breakfast-time. 

“One stage over,” thinks Pakhom, “and four of 
them make a day : it’s too early to turn round. Only 
let me take off m3" boots.” 

He sat down : he took off his boots, put them in his 
belt, went on. It was easy walking. He thinks, 
“ Let me go five versts farther, then I am going to 
swing round to the left. This place is very good : 
it’s too bad to give it up.” 

The farther he went, the better it became. He still 
went straight ahead. He looked round — the shikhan 
was now scarcely visible ; and the people, like little 
ants, make a black spot on it ; and something barely 
glistens. 

“Well,” thinks Pakhom, “I have enough in this 
direction : I must turn round. I am sweaty enough. 
— I should like a drink.” 

He halted, dug a pit, filled it with turf, unfastened 
his flask, took a drink, and turned sharply to the left. 
He went — went — the grass was deep, and it was hot. 

Pakhom began to feel weary ; he looked at the 
sun ; he sees that it is dinner-time. 

“ Well,” thinks he, “ I must have a rest.” 

1 Thirty-five hundred feet. * Russian, solnuishko, little sun. 


112 


POPULAR LEGENDS. 


Pakhom halted — sat down. He ate his bread and 
water, but did not try to lie down. He thinks, “If 
you lie down, you maj’ fall asleep.” 

He sat a little while ; he started on again ; he began 
to walk easily ; his strength was renewed by his meal, 
but now it began to grow very hot — 3^es, and the 
sun began to decline ; but he still keeps going. He 
thinks, “ Endure it for an hour, and ^^ou have an 
age to live.” 

He still went on, and it made a long distance in this 
direction. He still meant to turn to the left, but lo ! 
the hollow still continued wet. It was a pit}' to throw 
it away. He thinks, “ This day has been a good 
one.” 

He still continues straight ahead. He took in the 
hollow — dug his pit at the hollow — turned the second 
corner. 

Pakhom gazed back in the direction of the shikhan. 
The heat had caused a haziness, the atmosphere was 
full of lines; and through the mistiness the people on 
the shikhan could scarcely be seen. 

“ AVell,” thinks Pakhom, “ I have taken long 
sides : — I must make this one shorter.” 

He started on the third side — he began to hasten 
his pace. He looked at the sun — it was already far 
down the west, and on the third side he had only gone 
two versts ; and back to the starting-point, there were 
11 f teen versts. 

“No,” he thinks, “even though the estate should 
be uneven, I must hurry back in a straight line. It 
wouldn’t do to take too much : besides, I have already 
a good deal of land.” 

Pakhom dug his little pit in all haste, and headed 
straight for the shikhan. 


POPULAR LEGENDS. 


143 


IX. 

Pakhom goes straight to the shikhan, and now it 
began to be heavy work for him. He was bathed 
in sweat ; and his bare legs were cut and torn, and 
began to fail under him. He feels a desire to rest, but 
it is impossible : he must not stop till sunset. The sun 
does not delay, but sinks lower and sinks lower. 

“ Akh ! ” he says to himself, “ can I have made a 
blunder? can I have taken too much? why don’t you 
hurry along faster? ” 

He gazes at the shikhan — it gleams in the sun : it is 
a long distance yet to the place, and the sun is now 
not far from the horizon. 

Still Pakhom hurries on : it is hard for him, but 
always he quickens his pace, quickens his pace. He 
walks, walks — it is still always far off. He took to 
the double-quick. He threw away his blouse, his 
boots, his flask. He threw away his shapka, but he 
helps himself along with his hoe. 

‘"Akh!” he thinks, “ I was too greedy; I have 
ruined the whole business ; 1 shall not get there before 
sunset.” 

And his breath began to fail him all the worse be- 
cause of his apprehension. Pakhom runs — his shirt 
and drawers cling to his body by reason of sweat — 
his mouth is parched. In his breast a pair of black- 
smith’s bellows, as it were, are working ; and in his 
heart a mill is beating, and his legs almost break 
down under him. 

It became painful for Pakhom. He thinks, “ Sup- 
pose I should die from the strain? ” 

He is afraid of dropping dead, and yet he cannot 
stop. “ I have only been running, but if I were to 


144 


POPULAR LEGENDS. 


Stop now, they would call me a fool.” He ran, ran. 
lie is now getting near, and he hears the Bashkirs 
shouting — screaming at him ; and from their screams, 
his heart pains him more than ever. 

Pakhom runs on with the last of his strength, and the 
sun still hovers on the horizon’s edge ; it went into the 
haze: there was a great glow, red as blood. Now — 
now it is setting ! The sun is nearly set, but still he is 
not far from the place. Pakhom still sees it ; and the 
people on the shikhan gesticulate to him, urge him on. 
He sees the fox-skin shapka on the ground, even sees 
the money in it. And he sees the starshind sitting on 
the ground, his hands akimbo on his belly. And 
Pakhom remembered his dream. “Much land,” he 
thinks, “but perhaps God has not willed me to live 
on it. Okh ! I have ruined myself,” he thinks. “I 
shall not get it.” 

Pakhom looked at the sun, but the sun had gone 
down under the earth : its body was already hidden, 
and its last segment disappears under the horizon. 

Pakhom exerted his last energies, threw himself 
forward with his body : his legs just kept him from 
falling. 

Just as Pakhom reached the shikhan, it suddenly 
grew dark. He saw that the sun had gone. Pakhom 
groaned. 

“ I have lost my labor,” he thinks. He was just 
about to stop ; but as he still hears the Bashkirs all 
screaming, he remembered that he was below them, 
and therefore the sun seemed to have set, although it 
had not set to those on top of the shikhan. Pakhom 
took a breath, ran up the shikhan. It was still light on 
the mound. Pakhom ran, sees tlie shapka. In front of 
the shapka sits the chief, and laughs, holding his sides. 


POPULAR LEGENDS. 


145 


Pakhom remembered his dream, groaned his 

legs gave way under him, and he fell forward, reaching 
out his arms toward the shapka. 

“ Ai ! brave lad!” shouted the starshiud. “You 
have got a good piece of land.” 

Pakhom’s man ran to him, attempted to help him to 
his feet; but from his mouth pours a stream of blood, 
and he lies dead. 

The Bashkirs clucked with their tongues, expressing 
their sorrow. 

Pakhom’s rahdtnik took the hoe, dug a grave for 
him, made it just long enough, from head to foot, — 
three arshins,^ — and buried him. 


1 About seven feet. 


THE GODSON. 


“ Ye have heard that it hath been said, An eye for an eye, and a tooth for 
a tooth; but I say unto you. That ye resist not evil : but whosoever shall smite 
thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also.” — Matt. v. 38, 39. 

“ Vengeance is mine; 1 will repay.” — Itoii. xii. 19. 


I. 

A SON was born to a poor muzhik. The muzhik was 
glad ; went to invite a neighbor to be one of the god- 
parents. The neighbor declined. People don’t incline 
to stand as godparents to a poor muzhik. The poor 
muzhik went to another : this one also declined. 

He went through all the village : no one will stand 
as godparent. The muzhik went to the next village. 
And a passer-by happened to meet him as he was going. 
The passer-by stopped. 

“ Good-morning,” says he, “ muzhichok : ^ whither 
doth God lead you? ” 

‘'The Lord,” says the muzhik, “has given me a 
little child, as a care during infancy, as a consolation 
for old age, and to pray for my soul when I am dead. 
But, because I am poor, no one in our village will stand 
as godparent. I am trying to find a godfather.” 

And the passer-by says, “ Let me stand as one of 
the godparents.” 


14G 


^ Little muzhik. 


THE GODSON. 


147 


The muzhik was glad ; thanked the passer-by, and 
says, “ Whom now to get for godmother? ” 

“Well, for godmother,” says the passer-b}', “in- 
vite the store-keeper’s daughter. Go into town ; on 
the market-place is a stone house with shops ; as you 
go into the house, ask the merchant to let his daughter 
be godmother.” 

The muzhik had some misgivings. 

“How, godfather elect,” says he, “can I go to a 
merchant, a rich man? He will scorn me: he won’t 
let his daughter go.” 

O O 

“That’s not for you to worry about. Go ask him. 
Be read}’ to-morrow morning. I will come to the 
christening.” 

The poor muzhik returned home ; went to the city, 
to the merchant’s. He reined up his horse in the dvor. 
The merchant himself comes out. 

“ What is needed? ” says he. 

“ Look here, lord merchant.^ The Lord has given 
me a little child, as a care during infancy, as a conso- 
lation for old age, and to pray for my soul when I am 
dead. Pray, let your daughter be his godmother.” 

“ But when is the christening?” 

“To-morrow morning.” 

‘^Well; very good. God be with you! she shall 
come to-morrow to the mass.” 

On the next day the godmother came ; the god- 
father also came : they christened the child. As soon 
as they had christened the child, the godfather went 
off, and they knew not who he was. And they did not 
see him from that time forth. 


1 Da vot gospodin kupyets. 


148 


THE GODSON, 


II. 

The lad began to grow, to the delight of his parents ; 
and he was strong and industrious, and intelligent and 
gentle. He reached the age of ten. His parents had 
him taught to read and write. What others took five 
years to learn, this lad learned in one year. And there 
was nothing left for him to learn. 

There came one Holy Week. The lad went to his 
godmother, gave her the usual Easter salutation,^ re- 
turned home, and asks, — 

“ BAtiushka and mdtushka,^ where does my god- 
father live? I should like to go to him, to give him 
Easter greetings.” 

And the father says to him, “ We know not, my 
dear little son, where thy godfather lives. We our- 
selves are sorry about it. We have not seen him since 
the day when he was at thy christening. And we have 
not heard of liim, and we know not where he lives: we 
know not whether he is alive.” 

The son bowed low to his father, to his mother. 

“ Let me go, bdtiuslika and mdtushka, and find my 
godfather. I wish to go to him and exchange Easter 
greetings.” 

The father and mother let their sou go. And the 
boy set forth to find his godfather. 

* A kiss, with the words, KhrUtofi roakres. This custom is universal 
among the peasantry. The person saluted replies, Voestinu coskrts — Riseu 
indeed. 

2 Little father and mother. 


THE GODSON. 


149 


III. 

The lad set forth from home, and walked along the 
highway. He walked half a day : a passer-by met him. 
The passer-by halted. “Good-afternoon, lad,” sa3’s 
he : “ whither does God lead thee? ” 

And the boy replied, “ I went,” ssLys he, “to my dear 
godmother,^ to give her Easter greetings. I went back 
home. I asked my father and mother where my god- 
father lived : I wished to exchange Easter greetings 
wdth him. M3" father and mother said, ‘ We know not, 
little son, where thy godfather lives. From the da3" 
when he was at th3" christening, he has been gone from 
us ; and we know nothing about him, and we know not 
whether he is alive.’ And I had a desire to see my 
godfather, and so I am on my way to find him.” 

And the passer-by said, “ I am th3^ godfather.” 

The malchik was delighted, exchanged Easter greet- 
ings with his godfather. 

“ And where,” says he, “ dear godfather,^ art thou 
preparing to go now? If in our direction, then come 
to our house ; but if to thy own house, then I will go 
with thee.” 

And the godfather said, — 

“ I have not time now to go to thy house : I have 
business in the villages. But I shall be at home to- 
morrow. Then come to me.” 

But how, batiushka, shall I get to thee?’^ 


1 Matushka kreatnaya. 


* Bdtiiishka krestnui. 


150 


THE GODSON. 


“Well, then, go always toward the sunrise, always 
straight ahead. Thou wilt reach a forest: thou wilt 
see in the midst of the forest a clearing. Sit down 
in this clearing, rest, and notice what there may be 
there. Thou wilt come through the forest : thou wilt 
see a garden, and in the garden a palace with a golden 
roof. That is my house. Go up to the gates. I my- 
self will meet thee there.” Thus said the godfather, 
and disappeared from his godson’s eyes. 


THE GODSON. 


151 


IV. 


The lad went as bis godfather had bidden him. He 
went, went : he reaches tlie forest. He walked into 
the clearing, and sees in the middle of the meadow 
a pine-tree, and on the pine-tree a rope fastened to a 
branch, and on the rope an oaken log weighing three 
puds.^ And under the log is a trough with honey. 
While the boy is pondering why the honey is put 
there, and why the log is hung, a crackling is heard in 
the forest, and he sees some bears coming, — a she- 
bear in advance, behind her a j^earling, and then three 
young cubs. The she-bear stretched out her nose, and 
marched straight for the trough, and the young bears 
after her. The she-bear thrust her snout into the honey. 
She called her cubs : the cubs gambolled up to her, 
pressed up to the trough. The log swung off a little, 
came back, jostled the cubs. The she-bear saw it, 
pushed the log with her paw. The log swung off a little 
farther, again came back, struck in the midst of the 
cubs, one on the back, one on the head. 

The cubs began to whine, jumped awa}’. The she- 
bear growled, clutched the log with both paws above 
her head, pushed it away from her. The log flew high. 
The yearling bounded up to the trough, thrust his snout 
into the honey, munches ; and the others began to come 
up again. They had not time to get there, when the 
log returned, struck the yearling in the head, killed 
him with the blow. 


103.33 {Kjunds. 


152 


THE GODSON. 


The sbe-bear growled more fiercely than before, 
clutches the log, and pushes it up with all her might. 
The log flew higher than the branch : even the rope 
slackened. The she-bear went to the trough, and all 
the cubs behind her. The log flew, flew^ up ; stopped, 
fell back. The lower it falls, the swifter it gets. It 
gets very swift : it flew back toward the she-bear. 
It strikes her a tremendous blow on the pate. The 
she-bear rolled over, stretched out her legs, and 
breathed her last. The cubs ran avvay. 


THE GODSON. 


153 


V. 


The lad was amazed, and went farther. He comes 
to a great garden, and in the garden a loft}" palace 
with golden roof. And at the gate stands the god- 
father ; smiles. The godfather greeted his godson, led 
him through the gate, and brought him into the garden. 
Nevei’ even in dreams had the mdlchik dreamed of such 
beauty and bliss as there were in this garden. 

The godfather led the mdlchik into the palace. The 
palace was still better. The godfather led the mdlchik 
through all the apartments. Each was better than the 
other, each more festive than the other ; and he led 
him to a sealed door. 

“Seest thou this door?” says he. “There is no 
key to it, only a seal. It can be opened, but I forbid 
thee. Live and roam wherever thou pleasest, and as 
thou pleasest. Enjoy all these pleasures : only one 
thing is forbidden thee. Enter not this door. But, if 
thou shouldst enter, then remember what thou sawest 
in the forest.” 

The godfather said this, and went. The godson 
was left alone, and began to live. And it was so fes- 
tive and joyful, that it seemed to him that he had lived 
there only three hours, whereas he lived there thirt}" 
years. 

And after thirty years had passed, the godson^ came 
to the sealed door, and began to ponder. 


1 Kristnik. 


154 


THE GODSONo 


“Why did my godfather forbid me to go into this 
chamber? Let me go, and see what is there.” 

He gave the door a push ; the seals fell off ; the door 
opened. The krestnik entered, and sees an apartment, 
larger than the rest, and finer than the rest ; and in 
the midst of the apartment stands a golden throne. 

The krestnik walked, walked through the apartment, 
and came to the throne, mounted the steps, and sat 
down. He sat down, and he sees a sceptre lying by 
the throne. 

The krestnik took the sceptre into his hands. As 
soon as he took the sceptre into his hands, instantly 
all the four walls of the apartment fell away. The 
krestnik gazed around him, and sees the whole world, 
and all that men are doing in the world. 

He looked straight ahead : he sees the sea, and ships 
sailing on it. He looked toward the right : he sees for- 
eign, non-Christian nations living. He looked toward 
the left side : there live Christians, but not Russians. 
He looked toward the fourth side ; there live our 
Russians. 

“Now,” sa5"s he, “let me look, and see wLat is 
doing at home — if the grain is growing well.” 

He looked toward his own field, sees the sheaves 
standing. He began to count the sheaves [to see] 
whether there would be much grain ; and he sees a 
telyega driving into the field, and a muzhik sitting 
in it. 

The krestnik thought that it was his sire come by 
night to gather his sheaves. He looks : it is the thief, 
Vasili Kudriashof, coming. He went to the sheaves, 
began to lay hands upon them. The krc^stnik was 
provoked. He cried, “ Batiushka, they are stealing 
sheaves in the field ! ” 


THE GODSON. 


155 


Ilis father woke in the night. “I dreamed,” says 
he, “ that they were stealing sheaves. 1 am going to 
see.” He mounted his horse : he rode off. 

He comes to the field ; he sees Vasili ; he shouted to 
the muzhiks. Vasili was beaten. They took him, 
carried him off to jail. 

The krestnik looked at the city where his godmother 
used to live. He sees that she is married to a mer- 
chant. And she is in bed, asleep ; but her husband is 
up, has gone to his mistress. The krestnik shouted to 
the merchant’s wife,^ “ Get up ! thy husband is engaged 
in bad business.” 

The godmother jumped out of bed, dressed herself, 
found where her husband was, upbraided him, beat the 
mistress, and drove her husband from her. 

Once more the krestnik looked toward his mother, 
and sees that she is lying down in the izbd, and a 
robber is sneaking in, and begins to break open the 
chests. 

His mother awoke, and screamed. The robber 
noticed it, seized an axe, brandished it over the 
mother, was about to kill her. 

The krestnik could not restrain himself, lets fly the 
sceptre at the robber, strikes him straight in the temple, 
killed him on the spot. 


1 Kiipchikha, 


156 


TEE GODSON. 


VI. 

The instant the kr4stnik killed the robber, the walls 
closed again, the apartment became what it was. 

The door opened, the godfather entered. The god- 
father came to his son, took him by the hand, drew 
him from the throne, and says, — 

“ Thou hast not obeyed my command : one evil deed 
thou hast done, — thou openedst the sealed door ; a sec- 
ond evil deed thou hast done, — thou hast mounted the 
throne, and taken my sceptre into thy hand ; a third 
evil deed thou hast done, — thou hast added much to 
the wickedness in the w^orld. If thou hadst sat there 
an hour longer, thou wouldst have ruined half of the 
people.” 

And again the godfather led his son to the throne, 
took the sceptre in his hands. And again the walls 
were removed, and all things became visible. 

And the godfather said, — 

“ Look now at what thou hast done to thy father. 
Vasili has now been in jail a year ; he has learned all 
the evil that there is ; he has become perfectly des- 
perate. Look ! now he has stolen two of thy father’s 
horses, and thou seest how he sets fire to the dvor. 
This is what thou hast done to thy father.” 

As soon as the kr^stnik saw that his father’s house 
w^as on fire, his godfather shut it from him, commanded 
him to look on the other side. 

“Here,” says he, “it has been a year .since thy 


THE GODSON. 


157 


godmother’s husband deserted his wife ; he gads about 
with others, all astray : and she, out of grief, has taken 
to drink ; and his former mistress has gone wholly to 
the bad. This is what thou hast done to thy god- 
mother. ’ ’ 

The godfather also hid this, pointed to his house. 
And he saw his mother : she is weeping over her sins ; 
she repents, says, “ Better had it been for the robber 
to have killed me, for then I should not have fallen 
into such sins.” 

“ This is what thou hast done to thy mother.” 

The godfather hid this also, and pointed down. And 
the kr^stnik saw the robber : two guards hold the rob- 
ber before the prison. 

And the godfather said, “This man has taken nine 
lives. He ought himself to have atoned for his sins. 
But thou hast killed him : thou hast taken all his sins 
upon thyself. This is what thou hast done unto thy- 
self. The she-bear pushed the log once, it disturbed 
her cubs ; she pushed it a second time, it killed her 
yearling ; but the third time that she pushed it, it 
killed herself. So has it been with thee. I give thee 
now thirty years’ grace. Go out into the world, atone 
for the robber’s sins. If thou dost not atone for them, 
thou must go in his place.” 

And the kr4stnik said, “ How shall I atone for his 
sins? ” 

And the godfather said, “ When thou hast undone 
as much evil as thou hast done in the world, then thou 
wilt have atoned for thy sins, and the sins of the 
robber.” 

And the kr^stnik asked, “ How undo the evil that 
is in the world? ” 

The godfather said, “Go straight toward the sun- 


158 


THE GODSON 


rise. Thou wilt reach a field, men in it. Notice what 
the men are doing, and teach them what thou knowest. 
Then go farther, notice what thou seest: thou wilt 
come on the fourth day to a forest ; in the forest is a 
cell, in the cell lives a mendicant tell him all that has 
taken place. He will instruct thee. When thou hast 
done all that the mendicant commands thee, then thou 
wilt have atoned for thy sins, and the sins of the 
robber.” 

Thus spoke the godfather, and let the krestnik out of 
the gate. 


Stdreta. 


THE GODSON. 


159 


VII. 

The kr^stnik went on his way. He walks, and 
thinks, How can I undo evil in the world? Is evil 
destroyed in the world by banishing men into banish- 
ment, by putting them in prison, by executing them? 
How can I go to work to destroy evil, to say nothing 
of taking on one the sins of others? ” 

The kr^stnik thought, thought, could not think it out. 
He went, went : he comes to a field. In the field the 
grain has come up good and thick, and it is harvest- 
time. The krestnik sees that a little heifer has strayed 
into this grain, and the men have mounted their horses, 
and are hunting the little heifer through the grain, from 
one side to the other. Just as soon as the little heifer 
tries to escape from the grain, some one would ride up : 
the little heifer would be frightened back into the grain 
again. And again they gallop after it through the 
grain. And on one side stands a baba, weeping. 
“ They are running my little heifer,” she says. 

And the krestnik began to ask the muzhiks, “ Wh}^ 
do you so ? All of you ride out of the grain ! Let the 
khozydika herself call out the heifer.” 

The men obeyed. The baba went to the edge, be- 
gan to call, “ Co’, boss, co’, boss.” ^ 

The little heifer pricked up her ears, listened, listened ; 
ran to her mistress, thrust her nose under her skirt, 

> Tpriusi, tpriusi, biiryonochka, tpriusi, tpriuai I Buryonochka Ls the 
diminutive of a word meaning nut-brown cow. 


160 


THE GODSON. 


almost knocked her off her legs. And the muzhiks 
were glad, and the baba was glad, and the little heifer 
was glad. 

The kr^stnik went farther, and thinks, — 

“ Now I see that evil is increased by evil. The 
more men chase evil, the more evil they make. It is 
impossible, of course, to destroy evil by evil. But how 
destroy it? I know not. It was good, the way the 
little heifer listened to its khozyaika. But suppose 
it hadn’t listened, how would they have got it out? ” 
The kr6stnik pondered, could think of nothing, went 
farther. 


THE GODSON. 


161 


VIII. 

He went, went. He comes to a village. He asked 
for a night’s lodging at the last izbd. The khozyaika 
consented. In the izba was no one, only the kho- 
zyaika, [who] is washing up. 

The krestnik went in, climbed on top of the oven, 
and began to watch what the khozyaika is doing : he 
sees, — the khozydika was scrubbing the izbd ; she 
began to rub the table, she scrubbed the table ; she 
contrived to wipe it with a dirty towel. She is ready 
to wipe off one side — but the table is not cleaned. 
Streaks of dirt are left on the table from the dirty towel. 
She is ready to wipe it on the other side : while she 
destroys some streaks, she makes others. She begins 
again to rub it from end to end. Again the same. She 
daubs it with the dirty towel. She destroys one spot, 
she sticks another on. The krdstnik watched, watched ; 
says, — 

“ What is this that thou art doing, khozydiushka? 

“ Why, dost not see?” says she : “ I am cleaning up 
for Easter. But here, I can’t clean my table : it’s all 
dirty. I’m all spent.” 

“ If thou wouldst rinse out the towel,” says he, 

then thou couldst wipe it off.” 

The khozydika did so : she quickly cleaned off the 
table. 

“ Thank thee,” says she, “ for telling me how.” 

In the morning the krdstnik bade good-by to the 


1G2 


THE GODSON. 


khozydi'ka, walked farther. He went, went ; came to 
a forest. He sees muzhiks bending hoops. The 
krdstnik came up, sees the muzhiks ; but the hoop 
does not stay bent. 

The krdstnik looked, sees the muzhiks’ block is loose. 
There is no support in it. The krestnik looked on, 
and says, — 

“ What are you doing, brothel’s? ” 

“ We are bending hoops ; and twice we have steamed 
them : we are all spent; they will not bend.” 

“ Well, now, brothers, just fasten your block : then 
you will make it stay bent.” 

The muzhiks heeded what he said, fastened the block, 
and their work went in tune. 

The krdstnik spent the night with them; went far- 
ther. All day and all night he walked : about dawn 
he met some drovers. He laydown near them, and he 
sees, — the drovers have halted the cattle, and are strug- 
gling with a fire. They have taken dry twigs, lighted 
them : they did not allow them to get well started, but 
piled the fire with wet brush-wood. The brush-wood 
began to hiss : the fire went out. The drovers took 
more dry stuff, kindled it, again piled on the w'et brush- 
wood. Again they put it out. They struggled long ; 
could not kindle the fire. 

And the krestnik said, “ Don’t be in such a hurry 
to put on the brush-w^ood, but first start a nice little, 
fire. When it burns up briskly, tlien pile on.” 

Thus the drovers did. They started a powerful fire, 
laid on the brush- wood. The brush- wood caught, the 
pile burned. The krestnik staid a little while with 
them, and went farther. The kn'stnik pondered, pon- 
dered, for what purpose he had seen these three 
things : he could not tell. 


THE GODSON. 


I 


163 


IX. 


The kr4stnik went, went. A day went by. He 
comes to a forest : in the forest is a cell. The kr4st- 
nik comes to the cell, knocks. A voice from the cell 
asks, — 

“ Who is there? 

“A great sinner: I come to atone for the sins of 
another.’’ 

The hermit^ came forth, and asks, “ What are these 
sins that thou bearest for another ? ’ ’ 

The kr^stnik told him all, — about his godfather, and 
about the she-bear and her cubs, and about the throne 
in the sealed apartment, and about his godfather’s pro- 
hibition ; and how he had seen the muzhiks in the 
field, how they trampled down all the grain, and how 
the little heifer came of her own accord to her khoz- 
ydika. 

“I understood,” says he, “that it is impossible 
to destroy evil by evil ; but I cannot understand how to 
destroy it. Teach me.” 

And the hermit said, — 

“ But tell me what more thou hast seen on thy 
way.” 

The kr4stnik told him about the peasant-woman, — 
how she scrubbed ; and about the muzhiks, — how 
they made hoops ; and about the herdsmen, — how 
they lighted the fire. 


1 Stdreti. 


1G4 


THE GODSON. 


The hermit listened, returned to his cell, brought out 
a dull hatchet. 

“ Come with me,’’ sa3’s he. 

The hermit went to a clearing away from the cell, 
pointed to a tree. 

“ Cut it down,” says he. 

The krestnik cut it down : the tree fell. 

“ Now cut it in three lengths.” 

The krestnik cut it in three lengths. The hermit re- 
turned to the cell again, brought some fire. 

“ Burn,” says he, “ these three logs.” 

The krestnik made a fire, burns the three logs. 
There remained three firebrands. 

“ Half bury them in the earth. This way.” 

The krestnik buried them. 

“ Thou seest the river at the foot of the mountain : 
bring hither water in thy mouth, water them. Water 
this firebrand just as thou didst teach the baba ; water 
this one as thou didst instruct the hoop-makers ; and 
water this one as thou didst instruct the herdsmen. 
When all three shall have sprouted, and three apple- 
trees sprung from the firebrands, then wilt thou know 
how evil is destroyed in men : then thou shalt atone 
for thy sins.” 

The hermit said this, and returned to his cell. The 
krestnik pondered, pondered : he cannot comprehend 
the meaning of what the hermit had said. But he de- 
cided to do what he had commanded him. 


THE GODSON, 


1G5 


X. 

The kr6stnik went to the river, “ took prisoner ’’ a 
mouthful of water, poured it ou the firebrand. He 
went again and again. He also watered the other 
two. The krestnik grew weary, wanted something to 
eat. He went to the hermit’s cell to ask for food. 
He opened the door, and the hermit is lying dead on a 
bench. The krestnik looked round, found some bis- 
cuits, and ate them. He found also a spade, and 
began to dig a grave for the hermit. At night he 
brought water, waters the brands, and b}’ day he dug 
the grave. As soon as he had dug the grave, he was 
anxious to bury the hermit: people came from the vil- 
lage, bringing food for the hermit. 

The people learned how the hermit had died, and had 
ordained the krestnik to take his place. The people 
helped bury the hermit, they left bread for the krestnik : 
they promised to bring more, and departed. 

And the krestnik remained to live in the hermit’s 
place. The krestnik lives there, subsisting on what 
people bring him, and he fulfils what was told liim, — 
brings water in his mouth from the river, waters the 
brands. 

Thus lived the krestnik for a year, and many people 
began to come to him. The fame of him went forth, 
that there is living in the forest a holy man, that he is 
working out his salvation by bringing water in his 
mouth from the river under the mountain, that he is 


106 


THE GODSON. 


watering tho burned stumps. ]\Iany people began to 
come to him. And rich merchants began to come, 
brouglit him gifts. The krestnik took nothing for 
himself, save what was necessary ; but whatever was 
given him, he distributed among the poor. 

And thus the krdstnik continued to live : half of the 
day he brings water in his mouth, waters the brands ; 
and the other half he sighs, and receives the people. 

And the krestnik began to think that thus he had 
been commanded to live, and that thus he would de- 
stroy sin, and atone for his sins. 

Thus the krestnik lived a second year, and he never 
let a single day pass without watering ; but as 3’et not 
a single brand had sprouted. 

One time he is sitting in his cell he hears riding past 
a man on horseback, and singing songs. ^ The krest- 
nik went out to see what kind of a man it was. He sees 
a strong young man. His clothes are good, and his 
horse and the saddle on which he sat were rich. 

The krestnik stopped him, and asked who this man 
w\as, and whence he came. 

The man halted. 

“I,” says he, ‘‘ am a robber. I ride along the high- 
w’ays, I kill men : the more men I kill, the gayer songs 
1 sing.” 

The krestnik was alarmed ; asks himself, How de- 
stroy the evil in this man ? It is good for me to speak 
to those who come to me and repent. But this man 
boasts of his wickedness.” 

The krestnik said nothing, started to go off, but 
thought, Now, how to act? If this cut-throat is in 
the habit of riding by tliis way, he will frighten every- 
body : people will cease coming to me. And there will 

^ P'ydaiii. 


THE GODSON. 


1G7 


be no advantage to them, — yes, and then how shall I 
live?” 

And the kr(''stnik stopped. And he spoke to the 
cut-throat, — 

Here,” says he, “ people come to me, not to boast 
of their wickedness, but to repent, and put their sins 
away through prayer. Repent thou also, if thou fear- 
cst God ; but if thou dost not desire to repent, then 
get thee hence, and never return, trouble me not, and 
frighten not the people from coming to me. And if 
thou dost not obey, God will punish thee.” 

The cut-throat jeered, — 

“ I am neither afraid of God, nor will I obey thee. 
Thou art not m3' master.^ Thou,” sa3's he, “ livest 
by th}^ piety, and I live by robbery. We must all get 
a living. Teach thou the babas that come to thee, 
but read me no lecture. And in reply to what thou 
rubbest into me about God, to-morrow I will kill two 
men. And I would kill thee to-da}^, but I do not wish 
to soil my hands. But henceforth don’t come into my 
way.” 

Thus swaggered the cut-throat, and rode off. But 
the cut-throat came by no more, and the kr^stuik lived 
in his former style comfortably for eight years. 


» Khozyain. 


1G8 


THE GODSON. 


XI. 


OxE night the krestnik went out to water his brands : 
he returned to his cell to rest, and he sits watching the 
road, if any people should soon be coming. And on 
this day not a soul came. The krestnik sat alone by 
his door ; and it seemed lonesome, and he began to 
think about his life. He remembered how the cut- 
throat had reproached him for getting his living by his 
piety, and the krestnik reviewed his life: “ I am not 
living,” he thinks, “as the hermit commanded me to 
live. The hermit imposed a penance upon me, and I 
am getting from it bread and popular glory ; and so led 
away have I been by it, that I am lonesome when peo- 
ple do not come to me. And when the people come, 
then my only joy consists in the fact that they praise 
my holiness. It is not right to live so. I have been 
entangled b}' popular glory. I have not atoned for 
my former sins, but I have incurred fresh ones. I will 
go into the forest, to another place, so that the people 
may not come to me. I wdll live alone, so as to atone 
for my former sins, and not incur new ones.” 

Thus reasoned the krestnik ; and he took a little bag 
of biscuits and his spade, and went away from the 
cell into a cave, so as to dig for himself a hut in a 
gloomy place, to hide from the people. 

The kr(^stnik walks along with his little bag and his 
spade. The cut-throat rides up to him. The krestnik 
W’as frightened, tried to run, but the cut-throat over- 


THE GODSON. 


1G9 


took him. “ Where art going? ” says he. The kr^st- 
nik told him that he wanted to go away from people, 
to such a place that no one would find him. 

The cut-throat marvelled. 

“ How wilt thou live now, when people no longer 
come to thee ? ’ ’ 

The kr4stnik had not thought of this before ; but 
when the cut-throat asked him, he began to think about 
his sustenance. 

“ On what God will give,’’ says he. 

The cut-throat said nothing, rode on. 

“Why!” thinks the krestnik, “I said nothing to 
him about his life. Perhaps now he is repentant. To- 
day he seemed more subdued, and did not threaten to 
kill me.” 

And the krestnik shouted to the cut-throat, — 

“But it is needful for thee to repent. Thou wilt 
not escape from God.” 

The cut-throat wheeled his horse around. He drew 
a knife from his belt, shook it at the kr4stnik. The 
krestnik was frightened : he ran into the forest. 

The cut-throat did not attempt to follow him, only 
shouted, “Twice I have let thee off: fall not in my 
hands a third time, else I will kill thee ! ” 

He said this, and rode off. 

The krestnik went at eventide to water his brands : 
behold ! one has put forth sprouts. An apple-tree is 
growing from it. 


170 


TUE GODSON. 


XII. 

The kr^stnik hid from the people, and began to live 
alone. His biscuits were used up. 

“ Well,’* he says to himself, “ now I will seek for 
roots.” 

As he began his search, he sees, hanging on a bough, 
a little bag of biscuits. The kr4stnik took it, and 
began to eat. 

As soon as his biscuits were gone, again another 
little bag came, on the same branch. And thus the 
krestuik lived. He had only one grievance : he was 
afraid of the cut-throat. As soon as he heard the 
cut-throat, he would hide himself : he would think, 
“ He will kill me, and I shall not have time to atone 
for my sins.” 

Thus he lived for ten years more. One apple-tree 
grew, and thus there remained two firebrands as fire- 
brands. 

The kr^stnik once arose betimes, started to fulfil his 
task : he soaked the earth around the firebrands, be- 
came weary, and sat down to rest. 

He sits : he gets rested, and thinks, “I have done 
wrong [because] I have been afraid of death. If 
it please God, I may thus atone by death for my 
sins.” 

Even while these thoughts were passing through his 
mind, suddenly he hears the cut-throat coming : he is 
cursing. 


THE GODSON. 


171 


The kr 4 stnik listened; and he thinks, “Without 
God, no evil, no good, can come to me from any 
one.’’ 

And he went out to meet the cut-throat. He sees 
the cut-throat is not riding alone, but has a man behind 
him on the saddle. And the man’s hands and mouth 
are tied up. The man is silent, but the cut-throat is 
cursing him. 

The krestnik went out to the cut-throat, stood in 
front of the horse. 

“ Where,” says he, “ art thou taking this 
man?” 

“ I am taking him into the forest. This is a mer- 
chant’s son. He will not tell where his father’s money 
is hidden. I am going to thrash him until he will 
tell.” 

And the cut-throat started to ride on. But the 
krestnik did not allow it : he seized the horse by the 
bridle. “Let this man go,” says he. 

The cut-throat was wroth with the krestnik, threat- 
ened him. 

“Dost thou desire this?” sa3’s he. “I promise 
thee I will kill thee. Out of the way ! ” 

The krestnik was not intimidated. 

“I will not get out of thy way,” says he. “I fear 
thee not, I fear God only. And God bids me not let 
thee go. Unloose the man.” 

The cut-throat scowled, drew out his knife, cut the 
cords, let the merchant’s son go free. 

“Off with you,” says he, “ both of 3’ou ! and don’t 
cross my path a second time.” 

The merchant’s son jumped down, made off. The 
cut-throat started to ride on, but the krestnik still de- 
tained him. He began to urge him to reform his evil 


172 


THE GODSON. 


life. The cut-throat stood still, heard every word, 
made no reply, and rode off. 

The next morning the krestnik went to water his 
firebrands. Behold ! the second one had sprouted — 
another apple-tree is growing. 


THE GODSON. 


173 


XIII. 

Passed ten years more. One time the kr^stnik is 
sitting down, no one comes to see him : he has no 
fear, and his heart is glad within him. And the kr4st- 
nik thinks to himself, ‘‘What blessings men receive 
from God ! but they torment themselves in vain. They 
ought to live and enjoy their lives.” 

And he remembered all the wickedness of men — how 
they torment themselves. And he felt sorry for men. 

Here I am,” he thinks, “ living idly. I must go 
out and tell people what I know.” 

Even while he was pondering, he listens — the cut- 
throat is coming. He was about to let him pass ; and 
he thinks, — 

“ Whatever I say to him, he will not accept.” 

This was his first thought ; but then he reconsidered 
it, went out on the road. The cut-throat is riding by 
in moody silence : his e 3 ’es are on the ground. 

The kr^stnik gazed at him, and he felt sorry for him : 
he drew near to him, seized him by the knee. 

“ Dear brother,” ^ says he, “ have pity on thine own 
soul. Lo ! the Spirit of God is in thee. Thou torment- 
est thyself, and others thou tormentest ; and thou wilt be 
tormented still more grievous!}’. But God loves thee 
so ! With what bounty has he blessed thee ! Ruin 
not th^’self, brother ! ^ change thy life.” 

The cut-throat frowned : he turned away. 


* Brat mdut. 


* Brntet$. 


174 


THE GODSON. 


“ Out of my way ! ” says he. 

The kr4stnik clutched the cut-throat’s knee more 
firmly, and burst into tears. 

The cut-throat fastened his eyes on the kr^stnik. 
He looked, he looked, dismounted from his horse, and 
fell on his knees before the krestnik. 

“Thou hast conquered me, old man,” ^ he cries. 
“ Twenty years have I struggled with thee. Thou hast 
won me over. I have henceforth no power over thee. 
Ho with me as it seems to thee good. When thou 
speakedst to me the first time,” says he, “I only did 
the more evil. And thy words made an impression 
on me, only when thou wentest away from men, and 
1 learned that thou didst gain no advantage from 
men.” 

And the krestnik remembered that the baba suc- 
ceeded in cleaning her table when she had rinsed 
out her towel. When he ceased to think about him- 
self, his heart was purified, and he began to purify the 
hearts of others. 

And the cut-throat said, — 

“ But my heart was changed within me, only when 
thou didst cease to fear death.” 

And the krestnik remembered that the hoopmakers ^ 
only succeeded in bending their hoops after they had 
fastened their block : when he ceased to be afraid of 
death, he had fastened his life in God, and a disobedi- 
ent heart became obedient. 

And the cut-throat said, — 

“ But my heart melted entirely, only when thou didst 
pity me, and weep before me.” 

The krestnik was overjoyed : he led the cut-throat to 
the place where the firebrands had been. 

* Obodchiki, from bbod, a felloe, or hoop. 


» StdTik. 


THE GODSON. 


175 


The}^ came to it, but out of the last firebrand also 
an apple-tree had sprung ! 

And the kr6stnik remembered that the drovers’ damp 
wood had kindled only when a great fire was built : 
when his own heart was well on fire, another’s took fire 
from it. 

And the kr^stnik was glad because now he had 
atoned for all his sins. 

He told all this to the cut-throat, and died. The 
cut-throat buried him, began to live as the kr4stnik 
bade him, and thus taught men. 


THE LONG EXILE. 


“ God sees the truth, but bides his time.” 


NCE upon a time there lived in the city 



of Vladimir a young merchant named 
Aksdnof. He had two shops and a house. 

Aks^nof himself had a ruddy complexion 
and curly hair; he was a very jolly fellow 
and a good singer. When he was young he 
used to drink too much, and when he was 
tipsy he was turbulent; but after his mar- 
riage he ceased drinking, and only occasion- 
ally had a spree. 

One time in summer Aks^nof was going to 
Nizhni* to the great Fair. As he was about 
to bid his family good by, his wife said to 
him: — 

“Ivdn Dmitrievitch, do not go to-day; I 
had a dream, and dreamed that some misfor- 
tune befell you.” 


Nizhni Novgorod : it means Lower New Town. 
sl76 


THE LONG EXILE. 


177 


Aks^nof laughed at her, and said: “You 
are always afraid that I shall go on a spree 
at the Fair.” 

His wife said: “I myself know not what I 
am afraid of, but I had such a strange dream : 
you seemed to be coming home from town, 
and you took off your hat, and I looked, and 
your head was all gray.” 

Aks^nof laughed. “ That means good luck. 
See, I am going now. I will bring you some 
rich remembrances.” 

And he bade his family farewell and set 
off. 

When he had gone half his journey, he fell 
in with a merchant of his acquaintance, and 
the two stopped together at the same tavern 
for the night. They took tea together, and 
went to sleep in two adjoining rooms. 

Aks^nof did not care to sleep long; he 
awoke in the middle of the night, and in 
order that he might get a good start while it 
was cool he aroused his driver and bade him 
harness up, went down into the smoky hut, 
settled his account with the landlord, and 
started on bis way. 


178 


THE LONG EXILE. 


After he had driven forty versts,* he again 
stopped to get something to eat; he rested 
in the vestibule of the inn, and when it was 
noon, he went to the doorstep and ordered 
the samovar t got ready; then he took out his 
guitar and began to play. 

Suddenly a troika J with a bell dashed up 
to the inn, and from the equipage leaped an 
official with two soldiers ; he comes directly 
up to Aks^nof and asks : “ Who are you ? 
Where did you come from?” 

Aks^nof answers without hesitation, and 
asks him if he would not have a glass of tea 
with him. 

But the official keeps on with his questions: 
“Where did you spend last night? Were 
you alone or with a merchant? Have you 
seen the merchant this morning? Why did 
you leave so early this morning?” 

Aks^nof wondered why he was questioned 
so closely; but he told everything just as it 


* Nearly twenty-six and a half miles, 
t Water-boiler for making Russian tea. 
t A team of three horses harnessed abreast: the outside 
two gallop ; the shaft horse trots. 


THE LONG EXILE, 


179 


was, and he asks: “Why do you ask me so 
many questions? I am not a thief or a mur- 
derer. I am on my own business; there is 
nothing to question me about.” 

Then the official called up the soldiers, and 
said: “I am the police inspector, and I have 
made these inquiries of you because the mer- 
chant with whom you spent last night has 
been stabbed. Show me your things, and you 
men search him.” 

They went into the tavern, brought in the 
trunk and bag, and began to open and search 
them. Suddenly the police inspector pulled 
out from the bag a knife, and demanded, 
“Whose knife is this?” 

Aksdnof looked and saw a knife covered 
with blood taken from his bag, and he was 
frightened. 

“And whose blood is that on the knife?” 

Aks^nof tried to answer, but he could not 
articulate his words: — 

“ I . . . I . . . don’t . . . know ... I . . . That 
knife . . . it is . . . not mine . . .” 

Then the police inspector said: “This morn- 
ing the merchant was found stabbed to death 


180 


THE LONG EXILE, 


in his bed. No one except you could have 
done it. The tavern was locked on the inside, 
and there was no one in the tavern except 
yourself. And here is the bloody knife in 
your bag, and your guilt is evident in your 
face. Tell me how you killed him and how 
much money you took from him.” Aks^nof 
swore that he had not done it, that he had not 
seen the merchant after he had drunken tea 
with him, that the only money that he had 
with him — eight thousand rubles — was his 
own, and that the knife was not his. 

But his voice trembled, his face was pale, 
and he was all quivering with fright, like a 
guilty person. 

The police inspector called the soldiers, com- 
manded them to bind Aksdnof and take him to 
the wagon. 

When they took him to the wagon with his 
feet tied, Aksenof crossed himself and burst 
into tears. 

They confiscated Aksdnof’s possessions and 
his money, and took him to the next city and 
threw him into prison. 

They sent to Vladimir to make inquiries 


THE LONG EXILE, 


181 


about Aksdnofs character, and all the mer- 
chants and citizens of Vladimir declared that 
Aksdnof, when he was young, used to drink 
and was wild, but that now he was a worthy 
man. Then he was brought up for judgment. 
He was sentenced for having killed the mer- 
chant and for having robbed him of twenty 
thousand rubles. 

Aksenofs wife was dumfounded by the 
event, and did not know what to think. Her 
children were still small, and there was one at 
the breast. She took them all with her and 
journeyed to the city where her husband was 
imprisoned. 

At first they would not grant her admit- 
tance, but afterwards she got permission from 
the chief, and was taken to her husband. 

When she saw him in his prison garb, in 
chains together with murderers, she fell to the 
floor, and it was a long time before she recov- 
ered from her swoon. Then she placed her 
children around her, sat down amid them, and 
began to tell him about their domestic affairs, 
and to ask him about everything that had 
happened to him. 


182 


THE LONG EXILE. 


He told her the whole story. 

She asked, “What is to be the result of 
it?” 

He said: “We must petition the Tsar. It 
is impossible that an innocent man should be 
condemned.” 

The wife said that she had already sent in 
a petition to the Tsar, but that the petition 
had not been granted. Aks^nof said nothing, 
but was evidently very much downcast. 

Then his wife said: “You see the dream 
that I had, when I dreamed that you had 
become gray-headed, meant something, after 
all. Already your hair has begun to turn 
gray with trouble. You ought to have stayed 
at home that time.” 

And she began to tear her hair, and she 
said: “Vdnya,* my dearest husband, tell your 
wife the truth: Did you commit that crime or 
not?” 

Aks4nof said: “So you, too, have no faith 
in me ! ” And he wrung his hands and wept. 

Then a soldier came and said that it was 
time for the wife and children to go. And 
* Diminutive of Ivan, John. 


THE LONG EXILE. 


183 


Aksdnof for the last time bade farewell to 
his family. 

When his wife was gone, Aksdnof began to 
think over all that they had said. When he 
remembered that his wife had also distrusted 
him, and had asked him if he had murdered 
the merchant, he said to himself : “ It is evi- 
dent that no one but God can know the truth 
of the matter, and He is the only one to ask 
for mercy, and He is the only one from whom 
to expect it.” 

And from that time Aksdnof ceased to send 
in petitions, ceased to hope, and only prayed to 
God. Aks^nof was sentenced to be knouted, 
and then to exile with hard labor. 

And so it was done. 

He was flogged with the knout, and then, 
when the wounds from the knout were healed, 
he was sent with other exiles to Siberia. 

Aks^nof lived twenty-six j^ears in the mines. 
The hair on his head had become white as 
snow, and his beard had grown long, thin, and 
gray. All his gayety had vanished. He was 
bent, his gait was slow, he spoke little, he 
never laughed, and he spent much of his time 
in prayer. 


184 


THE LONG EXILE. 


Aks^nof had learned while in prison to make 
boots, and with the money that he earned he 
bought the “ Book of Martyrs,” * and used to 
read it when it was light enough in prison, and 
on holidays he would go to the prison church, 
read the Gospels, and sing in the choir, for 
his voice was still strong and good. 

The authorities liked Aks^nof for his submis- 
siveness, and his prison associates respected him 
and called him “ Grandfather ” and the “ man 
of God.” Whenever they had petitions to be 
presented, Aks^nof was always chosen to carry 
them to the authorities; and when quarrels arose 
among the prisoners, they always came to 
Aks^nof as umpire. 

Aksenof never received any letters from 
home, and he knew not whether his wife and 
children were alive. 

One time some new convicts came to the 
prison. In the evening all the old convicts 
gathered around the newcomers, and began to 
ply them with questions as to the cities or vil- 
lages from which this one or that had come, and 
what their crimes were. 


♦ Chetya Minyei. 


THE LONG EXILE. 


185 


At this time Aksdnof was sitting on his bunk, 
near the strangers, and, with bowed head, was 
listening to what was said. 

One of the new convicts was a tall, healthy- 
looking old man of sixty years, with a close- 
cropped gray beard. He was telling why he 
had been arrested. He said ; — 

“ And so, brothers, I was sent here for noth- 
ing. I unharnessed a horse from a postboy’s 
sledge, and they caught me in it, and insisted 
that I was stealing it. ‘ But,’ says I, ‘ I only 
wanted to go a little faster, so I whipped up 
the horse. And besides, the driver was a friend 
of mine. It’s all right,’ says I. ‘No,’ say 
they; ‘you were stealing it.’ But they did not 
know what and where I had stolen. I have 
done things which long ago would have sent 
me here, but I was not found out; and now 
they have sent me here without any justice in 
it. But what’s the use of grumbling? I have 
been in Siberia before. They did not keep me 
here very long though . . .” 

“ Where did you come from ? ” asked one of 
the convicts. 

“ Well, we came from the city of Vladimir; 


186 


THE LONG EXILE. 


we are citizens of that place. My name is 
Mak4r, and my father’s name was Semy6n.” 
Aks^nof raised his liead and asked : — 

“ Tell me, Semy6nitch,* have you ever heard 
of the Aks^nofs, merchants in Vladimir city? 
. . . Are they alive ? ” 

“ Indeed, I have heard of them ! They are 
rich merchants, though their father is in Siberia. 
It seems he was just like any of the rest of us 
sinners. . . . And now teU me. Grandfather, 
what you were sent here for?” 

Aks^nof did not like to speak of his misfor- 
tunes ; he sighed, and said : — 

“ Twenty-six years ago I was condemned to 
hard labor on account of my sins.” 

Makdr Semybiiof said : — 

“ But what was your crime ? ” 

Aksdriof replied, “ I must, therefore, have de- 
served this.” 

But he would not tell or give any further 
particulars; the other convicts, however, re- 
lated why Aksenof had been sent to Siberia. 
They told how on the road some one had killed 
a merchant, and put the knife into Aksenof ’s 
* Son of Semyon. 


THE LONG EXILE. 


187 


luggage, and how he had been unjustly pun- 
ished for this. 

When Makdr heard this, he glanced at Aks^- 
nof, clasped his hands round his knees and 
said : — 

“Well, now, that’s wonderful! You have 
been growing old. Grandfather ! ” 

They began to ask him what he thought was 
wonderful, and where he had seen Aks^nof. But 
Makdr did not answer ; he only repeated : — 

“A miracle, boys! how wonderful that we 
should meet again ! ” 

And when he said these words, it came over 
Aks^nof that perhaps this man might know who 
it was that had killed the merchant. And he 
said : — 

“Did you ever hear of that crime, Semyd- 
nitch, or did you ever see me before?” 

“ Of course I heard of it ! The country was 
full of it. But it happened a long time ago. 
And I have forgotten what I heard,” said 
Makdr. 

“Perhaps you heard who killed the mer- 
chant?” asked Aksenof. 

Mak4r laughed, and said : — 


188 


THE LONG EXILE, 


“ Why, of course the man who had the knife 
in his bag killed him. If any one put the knife 
in your things and was not caught doing it — 
it would have been impossible. For how could 
they have put the knife in your bag? Was it 
not standing close by your head? And you 
would have heard it, wouldn’t you ? ” 

As soon -as Aks^nof heard these words he 
felt convinced that this was the very man who 
had killed the merchant. 

He stood up and walked away. All that 
night he was unable to sleep. Deep melan- 
choly came upon him, and he began to call 
back the past in his imagination. 

He imagined his wife as she had been when 
for the last time she had come to see him in the 
prison. She seemed to stand before him ex- 
actly as though she were alive, and he saw her 
face and her eyes, and he seemed to hear her 
words and her laugh. 

Then his imagination brought up his children 
before him ; one a little boy in a little fur coat, 
and the other on his mother’s breast. 

And he imagined himself as he was at that 
time, young and happy. He remembered how 


THE LONG EXILE. 


189 


he had sat on the steps of the tavern when they 
arrested him, and how his soul was full of joy 
as he played on his guitar. 

And he remembered the place of execution 
where they had knouted him, and the knouts- 
man, and the people standing around, and the 
chains and the convicts, and all his twenty-six 
years of prison life, and he remembered his old 
age. And such melancholy came upon Aksdnof 
that he was tempted to put an end to him- 
self. 

“And all on account of this criminal !” said- 
Aks^nof to himself. 

And then he began to feel such anger against 
Makdr Semy6nof that he almost fell upon him, 
and was crazy with desire to pay off the load of 
vengeance. He repeated prayers all night, but 
could not recover his calm. When day came, 
he walked by Mak4r and did not look at him. 

Thus passed two weeks. Aks^nof was not 
able to sleep, and such melancholy had come 
over him that he did not know what to do. 

One time during the night, as he happened 
to be passing through the prison, he saw 
that the soil was disturbed under one of the 


190 


THE LONG EXILE. 


bunks. He stopped to examine it. Suddenly 
Makd,r crept from under the bunk and looked 
at Aks^nof with a startled face. 

Aks^nof was about to pass on so as not to see 
him, but Makdr seized his arm, and told him 
how he had been digging a passage under the 
wall, and how every day he carried the dirt out 
in his boot-legs and emptied it in the street 
when they went out to work. He said : — 

“ If you only keep quiet, old man, I will get 
you out too. But if you tell on me, they will 
flog me ; but afterwards I will make it hot for 
you. I will kill you.” 

When Aks^nof saw his enemy, he trembled 
all over with rage, twitched away his arm, and 
said : “ I have no reason to make my escape, 
and to kill me would do no harm ; you killed 
me long ago. But as to telling on you or not, 
I shall do as God sees fit to have me.” 

On the next day, when they took the convicts 
out to work, the soldiers discovered where 
Makdr had been digging in the ground ; they 
began to make a search and found the hole. 
The chief came into the prison and asked every- 
one, “ Who was digging that hole ? ” 


THE LONG EXILE. 


191 


All denied it. Those who knew did not name 
Mak4r, because they were aware that he would 
be flogged half to death for such an attempt. 

Then the chief came to Aks^nof. He knew 
that Aks^nof was a truthful man, and he said : 
“ Old man, you are truthful; tell me before God 
who did this.” 

Makdr was standing near, in great excite- 
ment, and did not dare to look at Aksdnof. 

Aks^nof s hands and lips trembled, and it was 
some time before he could speak a word. He 
said to himself; “If I shield him — But why 
should I forgive him when he has been my 
ruin? Let him suffer for my sufferings! But 
shall I tell on him? They will surely flog 
him ? But what difference does it make what 
I think of him? Will it be any the easier 
for me?” 

Once more the chief demanded; “Well, old 
man, tell the truth ! Who dug the hole ? ” 

Aksdnof glanced at Makdr, and then said : — 

“I cannot tell, your Honor. God does not 
bid me tell. I will not tell. Do with me as 
you please ; I am in your power.” 

In spite of all the chiefs efforts, Aksdnof 


192 


THE LONG EXILE. 


would say nothing more. And so they failed 
to find out who dug the hole. 

On the next night as Aksenof was lying on 
his bunk, and almost asleep, he heard some one 
come along and sit down at his feet. 

He peered through the darkness and saw that 
it was Makdr. Aksenof asked : — 

“ What do you wish of me ? What are you 
doing here ? ” 

Mak4r remained silent. Aksenof arose, and 
said : — 

“What do you want? Go away, or else I 
will call the guard.” 

Makdr went up close to Aksenof, and said in 
a whisper : — 

“ Iv4ii Dmitritch,^ forgive me ! ” 

Aksdnof said : “ What have I to forgive 
you?” 

“ It was I who killed the merchant and put 
the knife in your bag. And I was going to kill 
you too, but there was a noise in the yard ; I 
thrust the knife in your bag and slipped out of 
the window.” 

Aksenof said nothing, and he did not know 
* Son of Dmitry (or Dmitrievitch ; see page 1). 


THE LONG EXILE. 


193 


what to say. Makdr got down from the bunk, 
knelt on the ground, and said : — 

“ Iv4n Dmitritch, forgive me, forgive me for 
Christ’s sake. I will confess that I killed the 
merchant — they will pardon you. You will be 
able to go home.” Aks^nof said : — 

“ It is easy for you to say that, but how could 
I endure it? Where should I go now? . . . My 
wife is dead ! my children have forgotten me. 
... I have nowhere to go. . . .” 

Makdr did not rise ; he beat his head on the 
ground, and said : — 

“ Ivdn Dmitritch, forgive me ! When they 
flogged me with the knout, it was easier to bear 
than it is now to look at you. . . . And you had 
pity on me after all this . . . you did not tell on 
me. . . . Forgive me for Christ’s sake ! Forgive 
me though I am a cursed villain I ” 

And the man began to sob. 

When Aksdnof heard Makdr Semydnof sob- 
bing, he himself burst into tears, and said : — 

“ God will forgive you ; maybe I am a hun- 
dred times worse than you are ! ” 

And suddenly he felt a wonderful peace in 
his soul. And he ceased to mourn for his 


194 


THE LONG EXILE, 


home, and had no desire to leave the prison, 
but only thought of his last hour. 

Makdr would not listen to Aksdnof, and con- 
fessed his crime. 

When they came to let Aksenof go home, he 
was dead. 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY. 


We know that we have passed out of death into life, be- 
cause we love the brethren. He that loveth not abideth in 
death. (I. Epistle of St. John, iii. 14.) 

But whoso hath the world’s goods, and beholdeth his 
brother in need, and shutteth up his compassion from him, 
how doth the love of God abide in him ? 

My little children, let us not love in word, neither with 
the tongue, but in deed and truth, (iii. 17, 18.) 

- Love is of God ; and every one that loveth is begotten of 
God and knoweth God. 


He that loveth not knoweth not God; for God is love, 
(iv. 7, 8.) 


No man hath beheld God at any time: if we love one 
another, God abideth in us. (iv. 12.) 

God is love ; and he that abideth in love abideth in God, 
and God abideth in him. (iv. 16.) 

If a man say, I love God, and hateth his brother, he is a 
liar: for he that loveth not his brother whom he hath seen 
cannot love God whom he hath not seen. (iv. 20.) 


I. 



COBBLER and his wife and children 


had lodgings with a peasant. He owned 
neither house nor land, and he supported him- 
self and his family by shoemaking. 

Bread was dear and labor poorly paid, and 
whatever he earned went for food. 


195 


196 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY. 


The cobbler and his wife had one shuba* 
between them, and this had come to tatters, 
and for two years the cobbler had been hoard- 
ing in order to buy skeepskins for a new 
shuba. 

When autumn came, the cobbler’s hoard had 
grown; three paper rubles f lay in his wife’s 
box, and five rubles and twenty kopeks more 
were due the cobbler from his customers. 

One morning the cobbler betook himself to 
the village to get his new shuba. He put on 
his wife’s wadded nankeen jacket over his 
shirt, and outside of all a woollen kaftan. 
He put the three ruble notes in his pocket, 
broke off a staff, and after breakfast he set 
forth. 

He said to himself, “I will get my five 
rubles from the peasant, and that with these 
three will buy pelts for my shuba.” 

The cobbler reached the village and went 
to one peasant’s; he was not at home, but his 
wife promised to send her husband with the 

* Fur or sheepskin outside garment. 

t The paper ruble is worth about forty-two cents ; a ruble 
contains 100 kopeks. 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY, 


197 


money the next week, but she could not give 
him any money. He went to another, and 
this peasant swore that he had no money at 
all; but he paid him twenty kopeks for cob- 
bling his boots. 

The cobbler made up his mind to get the 
pelts on credit. But the fur-dealer refused to 
sell on credit. “Bring the money,” says he; 
“then you can make your choice: but we know 
how hard it is to get what is one’s due.” 

And so the cobbler did not do his errand, 
but he had the twenty kopeks for cobbling 
the boots, and he took from a peasant an old 
pair of felt boots to mend with leather. 

At first the cobbler was vexed at heart ; then 
he spent the twenty kopeks for vodka, and 
started to go home. In the morning he had 
felt cold, but after having drunken the vodka 
he was warm enough even without the sliuba. 

The cobbler was walking along the road, 
striking the frozen ground with the staff that 
he had in one hand, and swinging the felt 
boots in the other, and thus he talked to him- 
self : — 

“I,” says he, “am warm even without a 


198 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY, 


shuba. I drank a glass, and it dances through 
all my veins. And so I don’t need a sheep- 
skin coat. I walk along, and all my vexation 
is forgotten. That is just like me! What do 
I need? I can get along without the shuba. 
I don’t need it at all. There’s one thing ; the 
wife will feel bad. Indeed, it is too bad ; here 
I have been working for it, and now to have 
missed it! You just wait now! if you don’t 
bring the money, I will take your hat, I vow I 
will ! What a way of doing things ! He pays 
me twenty kopeks at a time ! Now what can 
5^ou do with twenty kopeks? Get a drink; 
that’s all ! You say, ‘ I am poor ! ’ But if 
you are poor, how is it with me? You have 
a house and cattle and everything; I have noth- 
ing but my own hands. You raise your own 
grain, but I have to buy mine, when I can, and 
it costs me three rubles a week for food alone. 
When I get home now, we shall be out of 
bread. Another ruble and a half of out-go ! 
So you must give me what you owe me.” 

By this time the cobbler had reached the 
chapel at the cross-roads, and he saw something 
white behind the chapel. 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY, 


199 


It was already twilight, and the cobbler 
strained his eyes, but he could not make out 
what the object was. 

“ There never was any such stone there,” he 
said to himself. “A cow? But it does not 
look like a cow! The head is like a man’s; 
but what is that white? And why should 
there be any man there?” 

He went nearer. Now he could see plainly. 
What a strange thing! It is indeed a man, 
but is he alive or dead? sitting there stark 
naked, leaning against the chapel, and not 
moving. 

The cobbler was frightened. He thinks to 
himself: “Some one has killed that man, 
stripped him, and flung him down there. If 
I go near, I may get into trouble.” 

And the cobbler hurried by. 

In passing the chapel he could no longer see 
the man ; but after he was fairly beyond it, he 
looked back, and saw that the man was no 
longer leaning against the chapel, but was 
moving, and apparently looking after him. 

The cobbler was still more scared by this, 
and he thinks to himself: “Shall I go to him 


200 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY. 


or go on ? If I go to him, there might some- 
thing unpleasant happen; who knows what 
sort of a man he is ? He can’t have gone there 
for any good purpose? If I went to him, he 
might spring on me and choke me, and I could 
not get away from him ; and even if he did not 
choke me, why should I try to make his acquaint- 
ance? What could be done with him, naked 
as he is? I can’t take him with me, and give 
him my own clothes! That would be absurd.” 

And the cobbler hastened his steps. He had 
already gone some distance beyond the chapel, 
when his conscience began to prick him. 

He stopped short. 

“ What is this that you are doing, Semy6n ? ” 
he asked himself. “A man is perishing of 
cold, and you are frightened, and hurry by! 
Are you so very rich? Are you afraid of los- 
ing your money? Ai, Sema! That is not 
right!” 

Semydn turned and went to the man. 


n. 

Semydn went back to the man, looked at 
him, and saw that it was a young man in the 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY, 


201 


prime of life; there are no bruises visible on 
him, but he is evidently freezing and afraid; 
he Is sitting there, leaning back, and does not 
look at Semydn ; apparently he is so weak that 
he cannot lift his eyes. 

Semydn went up close to him, and suddenly 
the man seemed to revive; he lifted his head 
and fastened his eyes on Semydn. 

And by this glance the man won Semydn’s 
heart. 

He threw the felt boots down on the ground, 
took off his belt and laid it on the boots, and 
pulled off his kaftan. 

“There’s nothing to be said,” he exclaimed. 
“ Put these on ! There now ! ” 

Semydn put his hand under the man’s elbow, 
to help him, and tried to lift him. The man 
got up. 

And Semydn sees that his body is graceful 
and clean, that his hands and feet are comely, 
and that his face is agreeable. Semydn threw 
the kaftan over his shoulders. He could not 
get his arms into the sleeves. Semydn found 
the place for him, pulled the coat up, wrapped 
it around him, and fastened the belt. 


202 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY, 


He took off his tattered cap, and was going 
to give it to the stranger, but his head felt 
cold, and he thinks : The whole top of ‘’my 
head is bald, but he has long curly hair.” 

So he put his hat on again. “ I had better 
let him put on my boots.” 

He made him sit down and put on the felt 
boots. . 

After the cobbler had thus dressed him, he 
says: “There now, brother, just stir about, 
and you will get waimed up. All these 
things are in other hands than ours. Can you 
walk?” 

The man stands up, looks affectionately at 
Semy<5n, but is unable to speak a word. 

“Why don’t you say something? We can’t 
spend the winter here. We must get to shel- 
ter. Now, then, lean on my stick, if you don’t 
feel strong enough. Bestir yourself!” 

And the man started to move. And he 
walked easily, and did not lag behind. As 
they walked along the road Semy6n said : 
“Where are you from, if I may ask?” 

“I do not belong hereabouts.” 

“No; I know all the people of this region. 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY. 


203 


How did you happen to come here and get 
to that chapel?” 

“ I cannot tell you.” 

“Some one must have treated you outra- 
geously ? ” 

“No one has treated me outrageously. God 
has punished me.” 

“ God does all things, but you must have 
been on the road to somewhere? Where do 
you want to go?” 

“ It makes no difference to me.” 

Semy6n was surprised. The man did not 
look like a malefactor, and his speech was gen- 
tle, but he seemed reticent about himself. 

And Semy6n says to himself, “Such things 
as this do not happen every day.” And he says 
to the man, “Well, come to my house, though 
you will find it very narrow quarters.” 

As Semy6n approached the yard, the stranger 
did not lag behind, but walked abreast of him. 
The wind had arisen, and searched under Sem- 
y6n’s shirt, and as the effect of the wine had 
now passed away, he began to be chilled to the 
bone. He walked along, and began to snuffie, 
and he muffled his wife’s jacket closer around 


204 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY. 


him, and he thinks : “ That’s the way you get 
a shuba ! You go after a shuba, and you come 
home without your kaftan ! yes, and you bring 
with you a naked man — besides, Matri6na won’t 
take kindly to it ! ” 

And as soon as the thought of Matri6na oc- 
curred to him, he began to feel downhearted. 

But as soon as his eyes fell on the stranger, 
he remembered what a look he had given him 
behind the chapel, and his heart danced with 

joy* 


in. 

Semy6n’s wife finished her work early. She 
had chopped wood, brought water, fed the chil- 
dren, taken her own supper, and was now delib- 
erating when it would be best to mix some 
bread, “ to-day or to-morrow ? ” 

A large crust was still left. She thinks ; “ If 
Semy6n gets something to eat in town, he won’t 
care for much supper, and the bread will last 
till to-morrow.” 

Matridna contemplated the crust for some 
time, and said to herself : “ I am not going to 
mix any bread. There’s just enough flour to 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY. 


205 


make one more loaf. We shall get along till 
Friday.” 

Matridna put away the bread, and sat down 
at the table to sew a patch on her husband’s 
shirt. 

She sews, and thinks how her husband will be 
buying pelts for the shuba. 

“I hope the fur-dealer will not cheat him. 
For he is as simple as he can be. He, himself, 
would not cheat anybody, but a baby could lead 
him by the nose. Eight rubles is no small sum. 
You can get a fine shuba with it. Perhaps not 
one tanned, but still a good one. How we suf- 
fered last winter without any shuba ! Could not 
go to the river nor anywhere ! And whenever 
he went out-doors, he put on all the clothes, 
and I hadn’t anything to wear. He is late in 
getting home. He ought to be here by this 
time. I hope my sweetheart has not got 
drunk.” 

Just as these thoughts were passing through 
her mind the doorsteps creaked ; some one was 
at the door. Matriona stuck in the needle, 
went to the entry. There she sees that two 
men had come in, — Semy6n, and with him a 


206 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY. 


strange peasant, without a cap and in felt 
boots. 

Matridna perceived immediately that her hus- 
band’s breath smelt of wine. “Now,” she thinks, 
“ he has gone and got drunk.” 

And when she saw that he had not his kaftan 
on, and wore only her jacket, and had nothing 
in his hands, and said nothing, but only sim- 
pered, Matribna’s heart failed within her. 

“ He has drunk up the money, he has been 
on a spree with this miserable beggar; and, 
worse than all, he has gone and brought him 
home ! ” 

Matribna let them pass by her into the cot- 
tage ; then she herself went in : she saw that 
the stranger was young, and that he had on 
their kaftan. There was no shirt to be seen 
under the kaftan; and he wore no cap. 

As soon as he went in, be paused, and did not 
move and did not raise his eyes. 

And Matribna thinks : “ He is not a good 
man ; his conscience troubles him.” 

Matribna scowled, went to the oven, and 
watched to see what they would do. 

Semybn took off his cap and sat down on the 


WHAT MEN LIVE 


207 


bench good-naturedly. “Well,” says he, “Ma- 
tii6iia, can’t you get us something to eat?” 

Matriona muttered something under her 
breath. 

She did not offer to move, but ao she stood by 
the oven she looked from one to the other and 
kept shaking her head. 

Semydn saw that his wife was out of sorts 
and would not do anything, but he pretended 
not to notice it and took the stranger by the 
arm. 

“Sit down, brother,” says he; “we’ll have 
some supper.” 

The stranger sat down on the bench. 

“Well,” says Semy6n, “haven’t you cooked 
anything? ” 

Matridna’s anger blazed out. “I cooked,” 
says she, “but not for you. You are a fine 
man ! I see you have been drinking ! You 
went to get a shuba, and you have come home 
without your kaftan. And, then, you have 
brought home this naked vagabond with you. 
I haven’t any supper for such drunkards as 
you are ! ” 

“That’ll do, Matridna; what is the use of 


208 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY. 


letting yonr tongue run on so? If you had 
only asked first : ‘ What kind of a man. . ” 

“ You just tell me what you have done with 
the money ! ’’ 

Semydn went to his kaftan, took out the bills, 
spread them out on the table. 

“Here’s the money, but Trifonof did not pay 
me ; he promised it to-morrow.” 

Matridna grew still more angry. 

“You didn’t buy the new shuba, and you 
have given away your only kaftan to this naked 
vagabond whom you have brought home ! ” 

She snatched the money from the table, and 
went off to hide it away, saying : — 

“ I haven’t any supper. I can’t feed all your 
drunken beggars ! ” 

“ Hey there ! Matridna, just hold your tongue ! 
First you listen to what I have to say. . .” 

“ Much sense should I hear from a drunken 
fool! Good reason I had for not wanting to 
marry such a drunkard as you are. Mother 
gave me linen, and you have wasted it in 
drink; you went to get a shuba, and you 
spent it for drink.” 

Semydn was going to assure his wife that he 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY. 


209 


had spent only twenty kopeks for drink ; he 
was going to tell her where he had found the 
man, but Matribiia would not give him a chance 
to speak a word ; it was perfectly marvellous, 
but she. managed to speak two words at once ! 
Things that had taken place ten years before — 
she called them all up. 

Matri6na scolded and scolded; then she 
sprang at Semydii and seized him by the sleeve. 

“ Give me back my jacket ! It’s the only 
one I have, and you took it from me and put 
it on yourself. Give it here, you miserable 
dog ! bestir yourself, you villain ! ” 

Semydn began to strip off the jacket. As 
he was pulling his arms out of the sleeves, 
his wife gave it a twitch and split the jacket 
up the seams. Matridna snatched the garment 
away, threw it over her head, and started for 
the door. She intended to go out, but she 
paused, and her heart was pulled in two 
directions, — she wanted to vent her spite, and 
she wanted to find what kind of a man the 
stranger was. 


210 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY. 


IV. 

Matri6na paused, and said: — 

“If he were a good man, then he would not 
have been naked; why, even now, he hasn’t 
any shirt on; if he had been engaged in de- 
cent business, you would have told where you 
discovered such an elegant fellow!” 

“Well, I was going to tell you. I was 
walking along, and there behind the chapel, 
this man was sitting, stark naked, and half 
frozen to death. It is not summer, mind you, 
for a naked man! God brought me to him, 
else he would have perished. Now what could 
I do? Such things don’t happen every day. 
I took and dressed him, and brought him 
home with me. Calm your anger. It’s a sin, 
Matridna; we must all die.” 

Matridna was about to make a surly reply, 
but her eyes fell on the stranger, and she held 
her peace. 

The stranger was sitting motionless on the 
edge of the bench, just as he had sat down. 
His hands were folded on his knees, his head 
was bent on his breast, his eyes were shut, and 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY. ' 211 

he kept frowning, as though something stifled 
him. 

Matriona made no reply. 

Semydn went on to say, “Matridna, can it 
be that God is not in you?” 

Matridna heard his words, and glanced again 
at the stranger, and suddenly her anger van- 
ished. She turned from the door, went to the 
corner where the oven was, and brought the 
supper. 

She set a bowl on the table, poured out the 
kvas,* and put on the last of the crust. She 
gave them the knife and the spoons. 

“Have some victuals,” she said. 

Semydn touched the stranger. “Draw up, 
young man,” says he. 

Semydn cut the bread, crumbled it into the 
bowl, and they began to eat their supper. 
And Matridna sat at the end of the table, 
leaned on her hand, and gazed at the stranger. 
And Matridna began to feel sorry for him, and 
she conceived affection for him. 

And suddenly the stranger brightened up, 

* Fermented drink made of rye meal or soaked bread 
crumbs. 


212 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY. 


ceased to frown, lifted his eyes to Matri6na 
and smiled. 

After they had finished their supper, the 
woman cleared off the things, and began to 
question the stranger; — 

“ Where are you from ? ” 

“I do not belong hereabouts.” 

“ How did you happen to get into this 
road? ” 

“I cannot tell you.” 

“Who maltreated you?” 

“ God punished me.” 

“ And you were lying there stripped ? ” 
“Yes; there I was lying all naked, freezing 
to death, when Semy6n saw me, had compas- 
sion on me, took off his kaftan, put it on me, 
and bade me come home with him. And here 
you have fed me, given me something to eat 
and to drink, and have taken pity on me. 
May the Lord requite you ! ” 

Matri6na got up, took from the window 
Semy6n’s old shirt which she had been patch- 
ing, and gave it to the stranger; then she 
found a pair of drawers and gave them also 
to him. 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY, 


213 


“ There now,” says she, “ I see that you have 
no shirt. Put these things on, and then lie 
down wherever you please, in the loft or on 
the oven.” 

The stranger took off the kaftan, put on the 
shirt, and went to bed in the loft. Matri6na 
put out the light, took the kaftan, and lay 
down beside her husband. 

Matridna covered herself up with the skirt 
of the kaftan, but she lay without sleeping: 
she could not get the thought of the stranger 
out of her mind. 

When she remembered that he had eaten 
her last crust, and that there was no bread 
for the morrow, when she remembered that 
she had given him the shirt and the drawers, 
she felt disturbed; but then came the thought 
of how he had smiled at her, and her heart 
leaped within her. 

Matridna lay long without falling asleep, and 
when she heard that Semydn was also awake, 
she pulled up the kaftan, and said ; — 

“ Semydn ! ” 

“Ha?” 

“You ate up the last of the bread, and I 


214 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY. 


did not mix any more. I don’t know how 
we shall get along to-morrow. Perhaps I 
might borrow some of neighbor Maldnya.” 

“We shall get along; we shall have enough.” 

The wife lay without speaking. Then she 
said : — 

“Well, he seems like a good man; but why 
doesn’t he tell us about himself?” 

“It must be because he can’t.” 

“Sidm!”* 

“Ha?” 

“We are always giving; why doesn’t some 
one give to us?” 

Semydn did not know what reply to make. 
Saying, “You have talked enough!” he turned 
over and went to sleep. 


V. 

In the morning Semydn woke up. 

His children were still asleep; his wife had 
gone to a neighbor’s to get some bread. The 
stranger of the evening before, dressed in the 
old shirt and drawers, was sitting alone on the 
bench, looking up. And his face was brigh^r 
* Diminutive of Semyon, or Simon. 


WIIAT MEN LIVE BY, 


215 


than it had been the evening before. And 
Semy6n said : — . 

“Well, my dear, the belly asks for bread, 
and the naked body for clothes. You must 
earn your own living. What do you know 
how to do?” 

“ There is nothing that I know how to do.” 

Semy6n was amazed, and he said : — 

“ If one has only the mind to, men can learn 
anything.” 

“ Men work, and I will work.” 

“ What is your name ? ” 

“ Mikhdila.” 

“ Well, Mikhd’ila, if you aren’t willing to tell 
about yourself, that is your affair; but you 
must earn your own living. If you will work 
as I shall show you, I will keep you.” 

“ The Lord requite you ! I am willing to 
learn ; only show me what to do.” 

Semy6n took a thread, drew it through his fin- 
gers, and showed him how to make a waxed end. 

“It does not take much skill — look . . .” 

Mikhdila looked, also twisted the thread be- 
tween his fingers: he instantly imitated him, 
and finished the point. 


216 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY. 


Semy6ii showed him how to make the welt. 
This also Mikhdila immediately understood. 
The shoemaker likewise showed him how to 
twist the bristle into tlie thread, and how to use 
the awl ; and these things also Mikhdi'la imme- 
ately learned to do. 

Whatever part of the work Semydn showed 
him he imitated him in, and in two days he was 
able to work as though he had been all his life 
a cobbler. He worked without relaxation, he 
ate little, and when his work was done he would 
sit silent, looking up. He did not go on the 
street, he spoke no more than was absolutely 
necessary, he never jested, he never laughed. 

The only time that he was seen to smile was 
on the first evening when the woman got him 
his supper. 


VI. 

Day after day, week after week rolled by for 
a whole year. 

Mikhdila lived on in the same way, working 
for Semybn. And the fame of Semybn’s appren- 
tice went abroad; no one, it was said, could 
make such neat, strong boots as Semydn’s ap- 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY. 


217 


prentice Mikhdila. And from all around people 
came to Semydn to have boots made, and Sem- 
y6n began to lay up money. 

One winter’s day, as Semydn and Mikhdila 
were sitting at their work, a sleigh drawn by a 
troika drove up to the cottage, with a jingling 
of bells. 

They looked out of the window : the sleigh 
stopped in front of the cottage ; a footman 
jumped down from the box and opened the 
door. A barin * in a fur coat got out of the 
sleigh, walked up to Semydn’s cottage, and 
mounted the steps. Matridna hurried to throw 
the door wide open. 

The bd^rin bent his head and entered the 
cottage ; when he drew himself up to his full 
height, his head almost touched the ceiling ; he 
seemed to take up nearly all the room. 

Semydn rose and bowed ; he was surprised to 
see the bdrin. He had never before seen such 
a man. 

Semydn himself was thin, the stranger was 
spare, and Matridna was like a dry twig ; but 
this man seemed to be from a different world. 

* The ordinary title of any landowner or noble. 


218 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY. 


His face was ruddy and full, his neck was like 
a bull’s ; it seemed as though he were made out 
of cast iron. 

The bdrin got his breath, took off his shuba, 
sat down on the bench, and said : — 

“ Which is the master-shoemaker ? ” 

Semydn stepped out. Says he, “I, your 
Honor.” 

The bdrin shouted to his footman: “Hey, 
Fedka,* bring me the leather.” 

The young fellow ran out and brought back 
a parcel. The barin took the parcel and laid 
it on the table. 

“ Open it,” said he. The footman opened it. 

The bdrin touched the leather with his finger, 
and said to Semydn : — 

“Now listen, shoemaker. Do you see this 
leather ? ” 

“ I see it, your Honor,” says he. 

“ Well, do you appreciate what kind of leather 
it is ? ” 

Semydn felt of the leather, and said, “Fine 
leather.” 

“Indeed it’s fine! Fool that you are! you 
* Diminutive of Feodor, Theodore. 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY. 


219 


never in your life saw such before ! German 
leather. It cost twenty rubles.” 

Semydn was startled. He said : — 

“ Where, indeed, could we have seen any- 
thing like it ? ” 

“ Well, that’s all right. Can you make from 
this leather a pair of boots that will fit me ? ” 

“ I can, your Honor.” 

The b4rin shouted at him : — 

“‘Can’ is a good word. Now just realize 
whom you are making those boots for, and out of 
what kind of leather. You must make a pair of 
boots, so that when the year is gone they won’t 
have got out of shape, or ripped. If you can, 
then take the job and cut the leather; but if 
you can’t, then don’t take it and don’t cut the 
leather. I will tell you beforehand, if the 
boots rip or wear out of shape before the year 
is out, I will have you locked up ; but if they 
don’t rip or get out of shape before the end of 
the year, then I will give you ten rubles for 
your work.” 

Semy6n was frightened, and was at a loss 
what to say. 

He glanced at Mikhdila. He nudged him 


220 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY. 


with his elbow, and whispered, “Had I better 
take it ? ” 

Mikhd'ila nodded his head, meaning, “You 
had better take the job.” 

Semydn took Mikhd'ila’s advice: he agreed 
to make a pair of boots that would not rip or 
wear out of shape before the year was over. 

The bdrin shouted to his footman, ordered 
him to take the boot from his left foot ; then 
he stretched out his leg. 

“ Take the measure ! ” 

Semydn cut off a piece of paper seventeen 
inches * long, smoothed it out, knelt down, 
wiped his hands nicely on his apron so as not 
to soil the bdrin’s stockings, and began to take 
the measure. 

Semydn took the measure of the sole, he took 
the measure of the instep ; then he started to 
measure the calf of the leg, but the paper was 
not long enough. The leg at the calf was as 
thick as a beam. 

“Look out; don’t make it too tight around 
the calf!” 

Semydn was going to cut another piece of 
* Ten vershoks, equivalent to 17.60 inches. 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY. 


221 


paper. The b4rin sat there, rubbing his toes 
together in his stockings, and looking at the 
inmates of the cottage : he caught sight of 
Mikhaila. 

“ Who is that yonder ? ” he demanded ; “ does 
he belong to you ? 

“ He is my workman. He will make the 
boots.” 

“Look here,” says the bd-rin to Mikhdila, 
“ remember that they are to be made so as to 
last a whole year.” 

Semyon also looked at Mikhaila; he saw 
that Mikhdila was paying no attention, but was 
standing in the corner, as though he saw some 
one there behind the bdrin. Mikhaila gazed 
and gazed, and suddenly smiled, and his whole 
face lighted up. 

“ What a fool you are, showing your teeth 
that way I You had better see to it that the 
boots are ready in time.” 

And Mikh4ila replied, “They will be ready 
as soon as they are needed.” 

“Very well.” 

The bdrin drew on his boot, buttoned up 
his shuba, and went to the door. But he for- 


222 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY. 


got to stoop, and so struck his head against 
the lintel. 

The bdrin stormed and rubbed his head ; 
then he climbed into his sleigh and drove off. 
After the b^rin was gone Semydn said : — 

“ Well, he’s as solid as a rock ! You could 
not kill him with a mallet. His head almost 
broke the door-post, but it did not seem to 
hurt him much.” 

And Matridna said: “How can they help get- 
ting fat, living as they do? Even death '"'oes 
not carry off such a nail as he is.” 

And Semydii says to Mikhaila: “Now, you 
see, we have taken this work, and we must 
do it as well as we can. The leather is costly, 
and the bdrin gruff. We must not make any 
blunder. Now, your eye has become quicker, 
and your hand is more skilful than mine ; 
there’s the measui-e. Cut out the leather, and 
I will be finishing up those vamps.” 

Mikhd'ila did not fail to do as he was told ; 
he took the bdrin’s leather, stretched it out on 
the table, doubled it over, took the knife, and 
began to cut. 

Matridna came and watched Mikhdila as he 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY, 


223 


cut, and she was amazed to see what he was 
doing. For she was used to cobbler’s work, 
and she looks and sees that Mikhaila is not cut- 
ting the leather for boots, but in rounded 
fashion. 

Matridna wanted to speak, but she thought 
in her own mind : “ Of course I can’t be ex- 
pected to understand how to make boots for 
gentlemen ; Mikhaila must understand it better 
than I do ; I will not interfere.” 

After he had cut out the work, he took his 
waxed ends and began to sew, not as one does 
in making boots, with double threads, but with 
one thread, just as slippers are made. 

Matri(5na wondered at this also, but still she 
did not like to interfere. And Mikhaila kept 
on steadily with his work. 

It came time for the nooning ; Semydn got 
up, looked, and saw that Mikhaila had been 
making slippers out of the bdriii’s leather. 
Semyon groaned. 

“How is this?” he asks himself. “Mikhdila 
has lived with me a whole year, and never 
made a mistake, and now he has made such a 
blunder I The bdrin ordered thick-soled boots, 


224 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY. 


and he has been making slippers without soles ! 
He has ruined the leather. How can I make 
it right with the barin ? You can’t find such 
leather.” 

And he said to Mikhd’ila : — 

“What is this you have been doing? . . . 
My dear fellow, you have ruined me ! You 
know the bdrin ordered boots, and what have 
you made?” 

He was right in the midst of his talk with 
Mikhaila when a knock came at the rapper; 
some one was at the door. They looked out of 
the window ; some one had come on horseback, 
and was fastening the horse. They opened the 
door. The same bdrin’s footman came walk- 
ing in. 

“ Good day.” 

“ Good day to you ; what is it ? ” 

“ My mistress sent me in regard to a pair of 
boots.” 

“ What about the boots ? ” 

“ It is this. My bdrin does not need the 
boots; he isn’t alive any more.” 

“ What is that you say ? ” 

“He did not live to get home from your 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY. 


house ; he died in the sleigh. When the sleigh 
reached home, we went to help him out, but 
there he had fallen over like a bag, and there 
he lay stone-dead, and it took all our strength 
to lift him out of the sleigh. And his lady has 
sent me, saying : ‘ Tell the shoemaker of whom 
your bdrin just ordered boots from leather 
which he left with him — tell him that the 
boots are not needed, and that he is to make 
a pair of slippers for the corpse out of that 
leather just as quick as possible.’ And I was 
to wait till they were made, and take them 
home with me. And so I have come.” 

Mikh^ila took the rest of the leather from 
the table and rolled it up ; he also took the 
slippers, which were all done, slapped them 
together, wiped them with his apron, and gave 
them to the young man. The young man took 
them. 

“ Good by, friends ! Good luck to you ! ” 

VII. 

Still another year, and then two more passed 
by, and Mikhaila had now been living five 
years with Semy6n. He lived in just the 


226 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY. 


same way as before. He never went any- 
where, he kept his own counsels, and in all 
that time he smiled only twice, — once when 
Matridna gave him something to eat ; and the 
other time when he smiled on the bdrin. 

Semy6n was more than contented with his 
apprentice, and he no longer asked him where 
he came from ; his only fear was lest he should 
leave him. 

One time they were all at home. The 
mother was putting the iron kettles on the 
oven, and the children were playing on the 
benches and looking out of the window. Sem- 
y6n was pegging away at one window, and Mi- 
khd’ila at the other was putting lifts on a heel. 

One of the boys ran along the bench toward 
Mikhdila, leaned over his shoulder, and looked 
out of the window. 

“ Uncle Mikhaila^ just look ! a merchant’s 
wife is coming to our house with some little 
girls. And one of the little girls is a cripple.” 

The words were scarcely out of the boy’s 
mouth before Mikhdila threw down his work, 
leaned over toward the window, and looked 
out of doors. And Semy6n was surprised. 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY. 


227 


Never before had Mikhdila cared to look out, 
but now his. face seemed soldered to the win- 
dow; he was looking at something very in- 
tently. 

Semydn also looked out of the window: he 
sees a woman coming straight through his yard; 
she is neatly dressed; she has two little girls 
by the hand ; they wear shubkas,* and ker- 
chiefs over their heads. The little girls looked 
so much alike that it was liard to tell them 
apart, except that one of the little girls was 
lame in her foot: she limped as she walked. 

The woman came into the entry, felt about 
in the dark, lifted the latch, and opened the 
door. She let the two little girls go before her 
into the cottage, and then she followed. 

“How do you do, friends?” 

“Welcome ! What can we do for you?” 

The woman sat down by the table ; the two 
little girls clung to her knee : they were bash- 
ful. 

“These little girls need to have some goat- 
skin shoes made for the spring.” 

“Well, it can be done. We don’t generally 


* Little fur garments. 


228 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY. 


make such small ones ; but it’s perfectly easy, 
either with welts or lined with linen. This 
here is Mikhdila; he’s my workman.” 

Semy6n glanced at Mikhdila, and sees that 
he has thrown down his work, and is sitting 
with his eyes fastened on the little girls. 

And Semy6n was amazed at Mikhdi’la. To 
be sure the little girls were pretty: they had 
dark eyes, they were plump and rosy, and they 
wore handsome shubkas and kerchiefs ; but 
still Semy6n cannot understand why he gazes 
so intently at them, as though they were 
friends of his. 

Semy6n was amazed, and got up, and began to 
talk with the woman, and to make his bargain. 
After he had made his bargain, he began to take 
the measures. The woman lifted on her lap the 
little cripple, and said: “Take two measures 
from this one ; make one little shoe from the 
twisted foot, and three from the well one. 
Their feet are alike ; they are twins.” 

Semydn took his tape, and said in reference 
to the little cripple : “ How did this happen to 
her? She is such a pretty little girl. Was 
she born so ? ” 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY. 


229 


“No; her mother crushed it.” 

Matri6ija joined the conversation; she was 
anxious to learn who the woman and children 
were, and so she said : — 

“ Then you aren’t their mother ? ” 

“No; I am not their mother; I am no rela- 
tion to them, good wife, and they are no rela- 
tion to me at all : I adopted them.” 

“ If they are not your children, you take good 
care of them.” 

“ Why shouldn’t I take good care of them ? 
I nursed them both at my own breast. I had a 
baby of my own, but God took him. I did not 
take such good care of him as I do of these.” 

“ Whose children are they ? ” 

VIII. 

The woman became confidential, and began 
to tell them about it. 

“ Six years ago,” said she, “ these little ones 
were left orphans in one week : the father was 
buried on Tuesday, and the mother died on 
Friday. Three days these little ones remained 
without their father, and then their mother 
followed him. At that time I was living with 


230 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY. 


my husband in the country : we were neigh- 
bors; we lived on adjoining farms. Their 
father was a peasant, and worked in the forest 
at wood-cutting. And they were felling a tree, 
and it caught him across the body. It hurt 
him all inside. As soon as they got him out, 
he gave his soul to God, and that same Aveek 
his wife gave birth to twins — these are the 
little girls here. There they were, poor and 
alone, no one to take care of them, either 
grandmother or sister. 

“ She must have died soon after the children 
were born. For when I went in the morning 
to look after my neighbor, as soon as I entered 
the cottage, I found the poor thing dead and 
cold. And when she died she must have rolled 
over on this little girl . . . That’s the way she 
crushed it, and spoiled this foot. 

“ The people got together, they washed and 
laid out the body, they had a coffin made, and 
buried her. The people were always kind. 
Fut the two little ones were left alone. What 
was to be done with them? Now I was the 
only one of the women who had a baby. For 
eight weeks I had been nursing my first-born, 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY. 


231 


a boy. So I took them for the time being. 
The peasants got together; they planned and 
planned what to do with them, and they said 
to me : — 

“‘You, Mdrya, just keep the little girls for a 
while, and give us a chance to decide.’ ” 

“ So I nursed the well one, but did not think 
it worth while to nurse the deformed one. I 
did not expect that she was going to live. 
And, then, I thought to myself, why should 
the little angel’s soul pass away? and I felt 
sorry for it. I tried to nurse her, and so I 
had my own and these two besides ; yes, I had 
three children at the breast. But I was young 
and strong, and I had good food ! And God 
gave me so much milk in my breasts that I had 
enough and to spare. I used to nurse two at 
once and let the third one wait. When one was 
through, I would take up the third. And so 
God let me nurse all three ; but when my boy 
was in his third year, I lost him. And God 
never gave me any more children. But we 
began to make money. And now we are liv- 
ing with the merchant at the mill. We get 
good wages and live well. But no children. 


232 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY, 


And how lonely it would be, if it were not for 
these tw^o little girls! How could I help loving 
them? They are to me like the wax in the 
candle ! ” 

And the woman pressed the little lame girl 
to her with one arm, and with the other hand 
she tried to wipe the tears from her cheeks. 

And Matridna sighed, and said: “The old 
saw isn’t far wrong, ‘Men can live without 
father and mother, but without God one can- 
not live.’” 

While they were thus talking together sud- 
denly a flash of lightning seemed to irradiate 
from that corner of the cottage where Mi- 
khdila was sitting. All look at him; and be- 
hold I Mikhdila is sitting there Avith his hands 
folded iu his lap, and looking up and smiling. 


IX. 

The woman went away with the children, 
and Mikhdi’la arose from the bench and laid 
down his work; he took off his apron, made 
a low bow to the shoemaker and his wife, and 
said ; — 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY. 


233 


“ Farewell, friends ; God has forgiven me. Do 
you also forgive me ? ” 

And Semydn and Matridna perceived that it 
was from Mikhd'ila that the light had flashed. 
And Semydn arose, bowed low before Mikhaila, 
and said to him : — 

“I see, Mikhd'ila, that you are not a mere 
man, and I have no right to detain you nor to 
ask questions of you. But tell me one thing: 
when I had found you and brought you home, 
you were sad; but when my wife gave you 
something to eat, you smiled upon her, and 
after that you became more cheerful. And 
then when the bdrin ordered the boots, why 
did you smile a second time, and after that 
become still more cheerful ; and now when this 
woman brought these two little girls, why did 
you smile for the third time and become radiant? 
Tell me, Mikh4ila, why was it that such a light 
streamed from you, and why you smiled three 
times ? ” 

And Mikhdila said : — 

“The light blazed from me because I had 
been punished, but now God has forgiven me. 
And I smiled the three times because it was 


234 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY. 


required of me to learn three of God’s truths, 
and I have now learned the three truths of 
God. One truth I learned when your wife 
had pity on me, and so I smiled ; the second 
truth I learned when the rich man ordered the 
boots, and I smiled for the second time; and 
now that I have seen the little girls, I have 
learned the third and last truth, and I smiled 
for the third time.” 

And Semyon said : — 

“ Tell me, Mikhdila, why God punished you, 
and what were the truths of God, that I, too, 
may know them.” 

And Mikhdila said : — 

“ God punished me because I disobeyed Him. 
I was an angel in heaven, and I was disobedient 
to God. I was an angel in heaven, and the 
Lord sent me to require a woman’s soul. I 
flew down to earth; I see the woman lying 
alone — she is sick — she has just borne twins, 
two little girls. The little ones are sprawling 
about near their mother, but their mother is 
unable to lift them to her breast. The mother 
saw me; she perceived that God had sent me 
after her soul ; she burst into tears, and said ; — 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY. 


235 


“ ‘ Angel of God, I have just buried my hus- 
band ; a tree fell on him in the forest and killed 
him. I have no sister, nor aunt, nor mother to 
take care of my little ones; do not carry off 
my soul * ; let me bring up my children myself, 
and nurse them and put them on their feet. It 
is impossible for children to live without father 
or mother.’ 

“ And I heeded what the mother said ; I put 
one child to her breast, and laid the other in 
its mother’s arms, and I returned to the Lord 
in heaven. I flew back to the Lord, and I 
said : — 

“ ‘ I cannot take the mother’s soul. The father 
has been killed by a tree, the mother has given 
birth to twins, and begs me not to take her 
soul ; she says : — 

“ ‘ “ Let me bring up my little ones ; let me 
nurse them and put them on their feet. It is 
impossible for children to live without father 
and mother.” I did not take the mother’s 
soul.’ 

“ And the Lord said : — 

“‘Go and take the mother’s soul, and thou 
* Dushenka, little soul, in the original. 


236 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY. 


shalt learn three lessons : Thou shalt learn 
what is in men, and what is not given unto men, 
and what men live hy. When thou shalt have 
learned these three lessons, then return to 
heaven.’ 

‘‘And I flew down to earth and took the 
mother’s soul. The little ones fell from her 
bosom. The dead body rolled over on the bed, 
fell upon one of the little girls and crushed her 
foot. I rose above the village and was going 
to give the soul to God, when a wind seized me, 
my wings ceased to move and fell off, and the 
soul arose alone to God, and I fell back to 
earth.” 


X. 

And Semy6n and Matri6na now knew whom 
they had clothed and fed, and who it was that 
had been living with them, and they burst into 
tears of dismay and joy ; and the angel said : — 
“I was there in the field naked, and alone. 
Hitherto I had never known what human pov- 
erty was ; I had known neither cold nor hunger, 
and now I was a man. I was famished, I was 
freezing, and I knew not what to do. And I 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY. 


237 


saw across the field a chapel made for God’s 
service. I went to God’s chapel, thinking to 
get shelter in it. But the chapel was locked, 
and I could not enter. And I crouched down 
behind the chapel, so as to get shelter from the 
wind. Evening came ; I was hungry and chill, 
and ached all over. Suddenly I hear a man 
walking along the road, with a pair of boots in 
his hand, and talking to himself. I now saw 
for the first time since I had become a man the 
face of a human being, and this man’s face 
was deathly, and it filled me with dismay, and 
I tried to hide from him. And I heard this 
man asking himself how he should protect 
himself from cold during the winter, and how 
get food for his wife and children. And I 
thought : — 

“‘I am perishing with cold and hunger, and 
here is a man whose sole thought is to get a 
shuba for himself and his wife and to furnish 
bread for their sustenance. It is impossible for 
him to help me.’ 

“ The man saw me and scowled ; he seemed 
even more terrible than before ; then he passed 
on. And I was in despair. Suddenly I heard 


238 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY. 


the man coming back. I looked up, and did 
not recognize that it was the same ma^ as 
before : then there was death in his face, but 
now it had suddenly become alive, and I saw 
that God was in his face. He came to me, put 
clothes upon me, and took me home with him. 

“ When I reached his house, a woman came 
out to meet us, and she began to scold. The 
woman was even more terrible to me than 
the man : a dead soul seemed to proceed forth 
from her mouth, and I was suffocated by the 
breath of death. She wanted to drive me out 
into the cold, and I knew that she would die 
if she drove me out. And suddenly her hus- 
band reminded her of God. And instantly a 
change came over the woman. And when she 
had prepared something for me to eat, and 
looked kindly upon me, I looked at her, and 
there was no longer anything like death about 
her ; she was now alive, and in her also I rec- 
ognized God. 

“And I remembered God’s first lesson : ‘ Thou 
shalt learn what is in men^ 

“And I perceived that Love was in men. 
And I was glad because God had begun to 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY, 


239 


fulfil His promise to me, and I smiled for the 
first time. But I was not yet ready to know 
the whole. I could not understand what was 
not given to men, and what men live by. 

“ I began to live in your house, and after I 
had lived with you a year the man came to 
order the boots which should be strong enough 
to last him a year without ripping or wearing 
out of shape. And I looked at him, and sud- 
denly perceived behind his back my comrade, 
the Angel of Death. No one besides myself 
saw this angel; but I knew him, and I knew 
that before the sun should go down, he would 
take the rich man’s soul. And I said to my- 
self: ‘This man is laying his plans to live 
another year, and he knoweth not that ere 
evening comes he will be dead.’ 

“ And I realized suddenly the second saying 
of God : ‘ Thou shalt know what is not given unto 
men' 

“ And now I knew what was in men. And 
now I knew also what was not given unto men. 
It is not given unto men to know what is 
needed for their bodies. And I smiled for 
the second time. I was glad because I saw 


240 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY, 


my comrade, the angel, and because God had 
revealed unto me the second truth. 

“But I could not yet understand all. I 
could not understand what men live by, and 
so I lived on, and waited until God should 
reveal to me the third truth also. And now 
in the sixth year the little twin girls have 
'^ome with the woman, and I recognized the 
little ones, and I remembered how they had 
been left. And after I had recognized them, 
I thought : — 

“ ‘ The mother besought me in behalf of her 
children, because she thought that it would be 
impossible for children to live without father 
and mother, but a stranger nursed them and 
brought them up.’ 

“And when the woman caressed the chil- 
dren that were not her own, and wept over 
them, then I saw in her the living God, 
and knew what people live hy. And I knew 
that God had revealed to me the last truth, 
and had pardoned me, and I smiled for the 
last time.” 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY, 


241 


XI. 

And the angel’s body became manifest, and 
he was clad with light so bright that the eyes 
could not endure to look upon him, and he 
spoke in clearer accents, as though the voice 
proceeded not from him, but came from heaven. 

And the angel said : — 

“I have learned that every man lives not 
through care of himself, but by love. 

“It was not given to the mother to know 
what her children needed to keep them alive. 
It was not given the rich man to know what 
he himself needed, and it is not given to any 
man to know whether he will need boots for 
daily living, or slippers for his burial. 

“ When I became a man, I was kept alive, not 
by what thought I took for myself, but because 
a stranger and his wife had love in their hearts, 
and pitied and loved me. The orphans were 
kept alive, not because other people deliberated 
about what was to be done with them, but be- 
cause a strange woman had love for them in 
her heart, and pitied them and loved them. 
And all men are kept alive, not by their own 


242 


WHAT MEN LIVE BY, 


forethought, but because there is love in 

MEN. 

“ I knew before that God gave life to men, 
and desired them to live; but now I know 
something above and beyond that. 

“ I have learned that God does not wish men 
to live each for himself, and therefore He has 
not revealed to them what they each need for 
themselves, but He wishes them to live in 
union, and therefore He has revealed to them 
what is necessary for each and for all together. 

“I have now learned that it is only in ap- 
pearance that they are kept alive through care 
for themselves, but that in reality they are 
kept alive through love. He who dwelleth in 
love dwelleth in God, and God in him, for God 
is love.'^ 

And the angel sang a hymn of praise to God, 
and the cottage shook with the sound of his 
voice. 

And the ceiling parted, and a column of fire 
reached from earth to heaven. And Semy6n 
and his wife and children fell prostrate on the 
ground. And pinions appeared upon the angel’s 
shoulders, and he soared away to heaven. 


WIIAT MEN LIVE BY. 


243 


And when Semy6n opened his eyes, the cot- 
tage was the same as it had ever been, and 
there was no one in it save himself and his 
family. 

















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